The Seventh Avenger
by Thedivergent1
Summary: Lydia Hathaway never asked to be kidnapped by an unknown organisation. She also never asked to be experimented on and granted elemental abilities before she was finally rescued. After a year of torment and pain, Lydia returns home and quickly finds herself caught up in a chain of events that forever change her life in both good and bad ways. Eventual BuckyxOC. Rated T for language
1. Prologue

For what seems like the one-hundredth time since I first woke up in the bare room, I wrench my hand-cuffed hands hard and fast from where they were previously resting on the arms of the chair, in an attempt to try and break them. The movement only causes pain to flare along my wrists where the metal dug into my skin, causing me to let out a huff of annoyance before I dropped my hands back down in defeat. The pain subsides slightly, though it was still there.

Prominent, throbbing, stinging _pain._

Something that I had grown accustomed to in the past ten months.

Growing up, being a SHIELD agent had been something that I had always dreamed of. My great-grandmother had been both an agent of SHIELD and a founder of the organization, with my grandmother and mother soon following in her place when they were both old enough. My Uncle had quickly joined after my mother had, and his best friend happened to be a spy for SHIELD as well. All my life I had been surrounded by talented spies with certain abilities that had always left a good impression on me, having me hoping that I could be like every single one of them once I was old enough.

When I was old enough, I finally enrolled in SHIELD's academy and a quickly worked my way through every assignment, every drill, every single part of my training that my tutors threw at me, resulting in promising and incredible results. I quickly outgrew my then tutors, resulting in none other than legendary SHIELD field agent, Phil Coulson, becoming my supervising officer. Phil had pushed me, working me harder than any other SHIELD agent that he had taught personally in the past, though I was far from ungrateful. While the extra work may have pushed me perhaps too far at times, I knew that what Phil was teaching me was going to benefit me in the long run.

After a few years I finally graduated becoming a full level one SHIELD agent until, by the age of nineteen, I had managed to work my way up to level seven. Though not unheard of for agents to reach level seven at such a young age, it _was_ uncommon. According to my uncle, Clint Barton, it was something that hadn't happened since my mother first joined. A gifted and skilled agent, she had also been someone to quickly move up through the ranks of SHIELD when she was my age-some even called her the best agent of her generation. But to me, she was just Stacey Hathaway.

Being the best of her generation hadn't apparently helped her in the end, however. When I was twelve years old, the Director of SHIELD Nick Fury had sent her on a mission to Russia. We had been living in San Francisco at the time and with no one able to take care of me, she had left me in the care of our next door neighbour Scott Lang, before taking off and leaving me behind. When I woke up the next morning, Clint was the one to come and pick me up and I knew instantly just looking at him that something was wrong. His eyes were red, indicating to me that he had been crying, and he looked like he had barely slept a wink. Thanking a confused Scott and assuring him that he would fill him in on what had happened later, Clint had gently told me to grab my suitcase so that he could take me back to my house. There, we had sat down on the couch and tearfully, Clint had told me what had happened.

 _Your mother's not coming back, Lyd._

I had been an only child growing up and I had no idea who my father was. Whenever I tried to discuss it with my mother, she would either blatantly tell me to drop the subject or would avoid answering the questions altogether. It had caused a strain on our relationship, with me constantly wanting answers that she refused to give. Now that she was gone, it seemed like I would never get the answers that I so desperately wanted either.

With the identity of my father unknown, the only other person that could have taken me in, was my uncle Clint. He had been happy to do so, with his then-pregnant wife Laura also content with me moving in with them. So I had packed up my belongings, said goodbye to my friends, Scott and my life in San Francisco, before I had then moved with into Clint's hidden farmhouse. Soon baby Cooper was born, followed by Lila a couple of years later-but by then, I was fast on my way to becoming a SHIELD agent.

Every single mission that SHIELD threw at me I completed with ease. Sometimes they would be solo, other times I would help Nat and Clint with theirs-every now and again I would also complete tasks with my then boyfriend Grant Ward. Whatever the case, and whether or not I did it with others or alone, I always succeeded. Never once failing.

It was because of this, that Alexander Pierce thought that I was best suited for a task in Greece. He had insisted that it was me who completed the mission and I hadn't fought him on the matter. I mean, the head of SHIELD insisting that you single-handedly complete a mission? You'd be idiotic to say no. So I had gladly accepted, before heading off to Greece to do the job.

My assignment had been simple: find the target who had infiltrated SHIELD and had stolen valuable files, take the files back and arrest the target, then call Coulson for extraction. It was certainly easier compared to some of my past missions, and I had quickly completed it almost effortlessly. But the night that I was supposed to meet Coulson at the airport after I had handed over the target, I had been jumped. When I was walking out of the hotel and towards my car, eight men-eight _trained_ men- appeared out of nowhere and attacked me. I tried my best to fight and I managed to injure two of them- but it wasn't enough. They easily overtook me.

Not long after I had opened my eyes and found myself in the cell-like room with the bed that I woke up on, with nothing else but a rusted tap jutting out from the wall. There had been men stationed outside my cell, leading me to believe that they were guarding me for some apparent reason when the door suddenly swung open and a middle-aged man with curly, grey hair walked into the room.

He was quite tall, and had been wearing a grey, pressed suit that almost matched the colour of his hair. When our eyes had locked, I saw that his were a light shade of blue. His face was lined with age, and his thin lips had surprisingly been tugged into an amused smile as he had stared at me. His beady eyes had been framed by, thick, gold-rimmed glasses that had made him look older than he probably was. He didn't look particularly fit, and was actually rather round, despite the fact that he was quite tall.

After brief bickering between the two of us, he had informed me that I was to now become part of their human experiment program. According to him, I had a special set of genes that he thought were valuable to their research and experiments, though when I asked him exactly what it was that he meant by this, he had refused to share with me as to why my genes were so special. He had ordered me to get up and follow him, though when I refused, he had only sadistically grinned.

"I wonder then if I were to make a visit to you Uncle Clint's house and have a nice chat with him, would you cooperate with me?" he had sneered.

My blood had chilled at his words. Whether or not he was simply bluffing and he really had no clue as to where Clint's secluded farmhouse was, there was absolutely no way that I would risk putting him, Laura or the children in danger. So grinding my teeth I had reluctantly done what I was told.

Once outside my cell, the rest of the building had reminded me much like a prison of some sort. Multiple locked doors appeared on each side of the walls and sometimes I could hear the sound of people screaming in agony behind them. This had initially freaked me out, leaving me in a trembling state at the sound of the almost animal-like shrieks of pain. They had bounced off the wall and echoed loudly in my skull, though the man in front of me seemed unfazed at the sounds- it was almost as if he hadn't learned to drown them out. It was then that I knew that I needed to get out of here as soon as possible or I would risk becoming like those behind the locked doors.

The man had lead me to what I assumed was a cafeteria. The large, grey room contained small tables and chairs and held about sixty people, all wearing the same plain clothes that I had on. When I walked in, nobody paid the slightest attention to me. They continued to eat their meals in front of them, oblivious to myself and the man who was leading me towards the back corner of the room. When my eyes locked on the table that he was leading me towards, I saw sitting at the table was a girl with long, dark hair sitting with a tall boy with shaggy dark hair. The heavy resemblance between the two of them lead me to believe that they were related somehow. If not brother and sister, then perhaps cousins of some sort.

Once we had reached the table, the man had promptly shoved me into my seat and warned me I had half an hour to eat before he had turned on his heel and walked off, leaving me alone with the boy and girl who were both staring at me curiously. I had shifted uncomfortably under their constant gaze, not particularly knowing what to say to break the silence that had descended over us, which was fast on its way in becoming awkward and annoying.

It was the girl however that spoke first, and I had thanked her silently for doing so as she asked, "What is your name?" In a heavy-accented, clear voice, that had me believing that she was from a Southern-European country.

Swallowing both hard and nervously, I had replied, "Lydia. Lydia Hathaway."

To my surprise, the boy had scoffed in disbelief at this. "American," he had muttered under his breath just loud enough for me to hear, scrunching his face in disgust as he did so.

I couldn't help but frown in confusion at his disgusted tone, having felt a little offended at the way that he was then looking at me. The girl had noticed the expression I wore. Lightly rolling her eyes, she explained, "Excuse my brother. We've had...bad history with the Americans. I am Wanda Maximoff, and this is my twin, Pietro Maximoff."

"I would say it's nice to meet you, but under these circumstances, not so much," I had flippantly responded, watching in surprise as Pietro had snorted in what I had assumed was amusement at this. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

Wanda had shrugged. "When we volunteered for this, they came and collected us. Then they blindfolded us. We have no idea where we are. We could be in Sokovia, or we could be somewhere else entirely."

"You're from Sokovia?" I had asked, and when they had both simultaneously nodded their head in confirmation, I continued, "What exactly did you volunteer for?"

Pietro had grinned, flashing his pearly white teeth at me as he had done so. "The program is said to make us strong," he had explained with a new found enthusiasm in his voice that hadn't been there moments before. "We volunteered to protect our country from any more American attacks."

"How long have you been here?"

"Three weeks. We have...already been experimented on," Wanda had answered with a slight frown on her face.

"Experimented on?" I had asked. I had seen that they had been easily getting tired of my constant questions but I had needed to know what I was in for. The more that I could get out of them, the more that I could figure out what exactly was going on here-including where exactly it was that we all were.

Wanda had let out a weary sigh, running a hand through her brown locks as she did so. Tugging thoughtfully on her bottom lip as she had briefly pondered to herself about the best way to explain her answer to my question, before she had finally elaborated, "To make us strong, they must use extreme measures for us to evolve. They do...tests- each different depending on each person's program. Some are more extreme than others."

She had been right-others experiments that were conducted on the hundred of people that they were holding in here, were more extreme. I had learnt this the longer that I had stayed here, and I soon found myself falling under the category of the utmost, agonizing and torturous experiments, that had left their scars on me to this day.

They had put me in an electric chair and I had to endure getting volted by electricity for hours on end until they had had enough. They had locked me in some form of a chamber and had used some sort of ventilation system to leave me gasping for air as they had taken the oxygen away or screaming in pain as the air pressure increased. They held me down in water until I was struggling for breath or would lock me in a freezing room, while I shivered and got used to the temperature, my body slowly freezing as they left me in there to freeze. They had thrown rocks and other sharp objects at me that would cut into my skin, and I was told to either stop the rocks with the air surrounding me or I would get pummeled with them. They would burn my hands and other parts of my skin while I screamed in agony, desperately trying to escape the heat from the fire as two men held me in place. The only experiment on me that was bearable was when I got to shove my hands in some dirt and play around with it-though this experiment lasted for fifteen minutes at most before we then returned to the other experimental afflictions.

As well as the experiments, they were constantly injecting me with needles all the time as well, pushing the purple serum into my skin every day before we began the experiments. It had taken me only four weeks after their tests had first begun, to figure out what exactly it was that they had been trying to do:

They were trying to get me to control the elements.

Time passed slowly from the moment that I endured the never-ending torture. All I knew was the pain, my cell, the cafeteria, and Wanda and Pietro to keep me company whenever I found the strength to leave my cell and join them in the cafeteria for food. Over time, I grew close to them. They were in different programs than me. They were making Wanda telekinetic, as well as giving her the power to go into people's minds and do all sorts of things with them. The last part creeped me out slightly, but I didn't let Wanda know this. Pietro, on the other hand, was in a program that would make him run faster- faster than a bullet. Pietro was very excited about it- in fact, he was excited about the entire program. He seemed very intent on protecting his country from us Americans. I had never seen anyone so driven until the day he had told me why.

There was one particular day about four months after I had been kidnapped. I had slowly trudged into the now familiar cafeteria only to find that it was just Pietro at our normal table, with Wanda nowhere in sight. I reached him, but he hadn't looked up at me as I lowered myself slowly into the chair opposite him. He had only stared down at a small photo in his hand, the corners ripped and frayed slightly, leading me to believe that he had had it for a long time.

"Where's Wanda?" I had asked him, reaching for the bottle of water in the middle of the table.

"She needs some time to herself. The experiments from last night- they took their toll on her," he had answered, worry in his voice. It always amazed about how much he and Wanda cared about each other. I was an only child so I had no idea what it was to have a sibling, despite the fact that I had oh so desperately wanted one growing up.

"I hope she's OK." I had said softly, before then clearing my throat. "So what's the photo of?"

Pietro's eyes had flickered to me, and I had been surprised to see how much pain that they held in them. "My family. Me, Wanda and our parents."

"Do your parents know that you're here?" I had asked, though when he remained silent at my question, my heart had clenched as I had suddenly realized why he looked as sad as he had when I had first asked him what the photo was of: his family or his parents at least- were dead.

"I'm so sorry," I had sincerely said to him, unsure what exactly to say other than those three simple words.

"We were ten years old," he had said thickly. He hadn't looked at me then and thinking about it now I realize he had probably forgotten that I was there, while he had recounted his story. "We were having dinner, the four of us. The first shell hits two floors below us and it makes a huge hole in the floor." He had then paused to take a deep breath. "Our parents go in, and the whole building starts falling apart. I grab Wanda and I roll us under the bed when the second shell hits, but it doesn't go off. It just...sits there in the rubble, three feet from our faces. And on the side of the shell, is painted one word. Stark," he had practically snarled the name.

Stark as in Tony Stark.

As in Iron Man.

He was a billionaire/playboy/genius and his company, Stark Industries once made weapons for the USA Defence Force, which they had used in their war against Afghanistan. This all changed about two months before I was kidnapped though. While Stark was in Afghanistan demonstrating his new missile, his group was attacked and Stark was taken hostage for two months. The group that held him captured were known as The Ten Rings and they wanted Stark to make a replica of his missile that he demonstrated to the Defence Force. Having been given supplies, Stark made a suit of armour and destroyed any other missiles The Ten Rings had before escaping. A rescue team found him wandering in the desert and took him back to America where the next day, he announced to the world that his company would no longer manufacture weapons. Something that had taken the entire world by surprise. For years the company had made weapons-it had done so since Howard Stark had first created the company. Yet here his son was, decades later, changing this tradition and turning over a new leaf, to instead use his company for good.

Though something told me by the thunderous expression that was plastered to the features of Pietro's face, that he would have had a hard time believing this if I had told him.

"We were trapped, for two days," Pietro had venomously spat. "Every effort to save us, every shift in the bricks, I think, 'this will set it off. We wait for two days, for Tony Stark to kill us."

"I'm so sorry, Pietro."

He had shrugged and sniffled before he had then gently tucked the photo into the pocket of his pants, blinking away the tears that had formed in his eyes as he had spoken. He had taken a moment to compose himself, before he had then explained to me slowly, "That is why Wanda and I are here. We are here so that they are able to make it so that we can stop anything like that happening to other families in Sokovia. But I have to ask why are you here?" He had asked unexpectedly.

"To eat lunch?"

He had rolled his eyes, but a small smile appeared on his lips. "No, why are you here? What drove you to this?"

I had laughed dryly, with no humour in my tone. "I was kidnapped and dragged here, while out on an assignment."

"An assignment?" Wanda had suddenly appeared behind me. I turned around to face her and was a little shocked at how pale she was.

"Wanda, you should be resting," Pietro had said, scolding his younger sister.

She had only given him a dismissive wave of her hand, however. "I needed something to eat. I feel better anyway," Wanda replied before she had sat down next to me. "Now what's this assignment?"

I hadn't responded to her question at first, having known that I had needed to be careful here-I couldn't exactly reveal to her that I was a spy for an intelligence organization. Nick Fury would have thrown a pink fit if I had done so. So after considering other answers to her questions very very _very_ quickly, I had replied "Just something my boss wanted me to do. I was in a business conference in Greece when they came for me," the vague lie having easily rolled off my tongue.

"Will your boss come looking for you?"

I had shrugged. "Maybe. I think that my uncle will be. He practically raised me."

The door to the small room now suddenly opens and I turn towards it at the sound, though when I see who it was, I can't help but bare my teeth in anger. It was whom everyone in here knew as The Man, as no one knew his real name. He was one of the people in charge here and had been the first person to greet me when I had woken up in this hell hole in the first place.

He says nothing to me as he closes the door behind him, not even looking at me as he moved to take a seat in the chair opposite me.

"Do you know why you're here Lydia?" He asks in the same soft tone that he also spoke in once he's settled, his voice almost like velvet as the words moved past his mouth.

I don't immediately respond to his question, and instead briefly look around the room that we were sitting in. Other then the two of us and the chairs that we were sitting on, the room was relatively bare. There was nothing out of place with the four, bare, even walls that boxed us in, and there wasn't anything on the table that was separating the two of us. When my gaze returns back to him, I see that he was watching me curiously, tapping one of his splayed out fingers on the table beneath them.

I drum my own fingers against the arm of the chair, trying to think if there may have been something that I had done that he resulted in me being locked in this unfamiliar room. But as far as I knew, there wasn't anything that I had done recently that would have been out of place of my usual, hellish routine. So the answer to his question was a relatively simple one: _no._

"Haven't got a clue," I snap angrily, noting the way that the man leans back and lets out an amused chuckle, causing me to want to lean forward and punch the smirk straight off his face. "So why don't you enlighten me with that piece of information?"

The man laughs, his chest heaving up and down with the sound. "I see your temper has managed to stay with you all this time."

I roll my eyes. "Well, what were you expecting? I've been kidnapped, held captive and tortured for your own sick experiments for the past ten months and-" I cut off, wrenching my arm up from the armrest of the chair, jingling the handcuffs in the process to indicate them. "I've been handcuffed all the time and was forced to change into this hideous grey dress. Were you expecting me to be grateful?"

He clucks his tongue at me and shakes his head in disappointment. "Sick experiments? We're trying to make you strong-"

"I was a level seven agent of SHIELD. I was strong," I snarl, my lip curling as I did so. Whoever these people were, they knew exactly who SHIELD was, and had since I was first dragged back here. How they knew this I didn't know, despite the lengths that I had gone to try and figure it out. Them knowing about SHIELD wasn't a good thing. In fact, the fewer people that knew about the secret organization, the better it was for SHIELD.

He lets out a weary sigh and shakes his head once more, before he then finally explains, "You are in this room because you've been able to control the elements for about two months now. Do you know what this means?"

I shrug, knowing that he was speaking the truth-I _have_ learnt how to control them now. The needles that the scientists had been injecting into me every day for the past couple of months somehow made it so that I could control the elements. Suddenly I could control electricity and I could produce some from my body. I could control the oxygen pressure level in the room and could create a small bubble filled with oxygen to surround my head when there was none left in that god-awful room. Being held under water didn't affect me anymore, as I suddenly found that I could _breathe underwater_ , much to my astonishment. As well as this, I could also draw moisture from the air to keep me cool on the hot days stuck inside my cell (And I could change the temperature of it too, meaning I could have a decent shower for once). The temperature didn't matter to me any more: I could change it and had recently discovered that I was also cryokinesis-my ability to manipulate water, had also given me the ability to control its component of ice.

The rocks they used to throw at me never hit me and were flung back at them as I learnt to control the air, meaning I could move objects without touching them. The fire that used to scorch and blister my skin no longer hurt- I could create fire out of thin air and throw fireballs. Even just shoving my hands in the dirt had helped. I could grow things, and move slabs of rocks from the ground. But the best part was, was that I could use the air to levitate me off the ground and make me go as fast and as high as I wanted.

I. Could freaking. _Fly._

You'd think that me being able to control these abilities would make me able to fight my way out of here. Well, the Sons of bitches realized this too and once my training was done for the day, they stuck another needle in me, that weakened my abilities. I couldn't escape during the training either. They had tripled the guards and their weapons, promising me that they would put a bullet in my head if I tried anything.

Yet, something didn't quite add up here. If me being able to control the elements was the true reason that I had been bought back here, then why was I only meeting with the man now? Like he had said, I had been able to manipulate and control my abilities for two months. So why hadn't this meeting occurred earlier? Unless...

"Sorry, but no," I said dryly. "Though I guess it has something to do with the others."

He raises one of his eyebrows. "Others?" He inquires.

I offer him a brief shrug of my shoulders, before I then further elaborate, "When you've been stuck here for almost over a year now, you tend to notice things. Every time someone in this Hell hole is able to master their abilities, you relocate them to another facility of yours." This had happened to Wanda and Pietro about three months ago. I missed them, but I was glad that they weren't here, still getting used like a guinea pig for someone's own twisted agenda.

"Clever girl."

"It's called being observant, not clever," I snap with a light eye roll. "So if that's what you bought me here for, then you can skip right to the end and tell me that I'm being moved off." He laughs at this, however, the sound causing for me to shoot him a confused look. Alarm bells started ringing in my head, signalling to me that something just wasn't quite right here. That there was something that I was missing, and whatever it was, it seemed to amuse The Man.

Having been here long enough, I long ago learnt that whenever he found something amusing, bad things tended to follow. While most people would find funny things amusing. this guy found people squirming or shrieking with pain entertaining-he was that much of a sick bastard.

He now grins, practically bearing his teeth as he does so. "Yes, that's true. But that won't be happening to you," he says gloatingly, my stomach churning at the delight that was easy to detect in his tone.

Something isn't right here.

"Why not?" I ask cautiously, silently hoping that he wouldn't be able to tell how nervous I truly was. "It's happened to everyone else, so why not me?"

"Because we're going to kill you."

After ten months of pain, torture and torment, and after all the hell that I had given them, I sort of saw that one coming. However, that doesn't stop my heart skipping and my stomach to drop with dread.

I'm only twenty years old. I had _barely lived_. There was still so much that I both needed and wanted to do, things that I hadn't been able to accomplish before now. Yet here this man was, willing to take everything from me-my life included, when all I had done wrong was be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

I had been a SHIELD agent for a year now, having graduated high school early along with my friend Jane Foster, before we had studied astrophysics together while I had also studied at SHIELD. Though young and knowing the risks, I had chosen to work for SHIELD regardless, thinking that it was what I was supposed to do with my life.

Never though had I actually considered that I would be one of the unfortunate agents that would never return home from a mission.

But now...I was.

He squints at me. "You don't seem surprised."

I roll my eyes, trying to hide the quaver in my voice when I speak:"Well I wasn't bought here by choice. There was no way you were going to let me go when all I was going to do was bring SHIELD back to you and kick your arse."

"Not only that but you haven't been the most cooperative," he replies dryly, the smirk returning to his lips once more. "Mr Davis is still in the coma by the way."

"Poor him," I deadpan: I felt no remorse for hurting that man. He had been a guard that had decided to get a little too 'hands on' one day. If I was being quite honest, then I was rather glad that he was in a coma. Not only did it keep him far away from me, but from the other girls that were in their facility.

"Miss Henderson lost three teeth."

"She'll live."

"They managed to sew Johnson's finger back on."

"Good for him."

"And Mr Low is unable to have any kids in the near future."

"That moron had it coming. You don't try and handle a job that way, OK? Not my fault the idiot's groin got in the way of my foot."

He smiles tightly. "Either way Ms Hathaway. Tomorrow, we're evacuating all of the people in this facility to another, seeing as we have some unwanted parties on our tail. Everyone except you. You will remain here alone and will be blown up with the rest of the building. If anyone does find you...well. There won't exactly be much left for them to find."

I flinch at his words. Tomorrow? _No_! "I think you're being a little hasty," I try to reason shakily. "I mean, blowing up the building?"

"We wouldn't want to leave a scent for SHIELD to come and find us, now would we?" he explains calmly. "We don't need you any more Lydia. Now that we know that the experiments worked on you, we can now apply them to someone more willing. We believe that we now have enough data to replicate what we have done to you, even if our test subjects don't have the same set of genes."

"How do you know the experiments will work on the others?" I ask quickly. I need time! Time to plan an escape! I hadn't counted on the sudden death sentence.

"It will work. We have some of the best scientists in the world in here. Try all you want, but nothing is going to change our minds. You're dying tomorrow."

* * *

I didn't sleep well that night. Once I had been returned to my cell, they had instantly injected the needle to limit my elemental abilities. The guards then shoved me into my cell, laughed at my clumsiness and slammed the door behind me. Once I was alone, I crawled up into a ball in the corner and let silent tears fall down my face.

The next morning, I awake to the sound of hurrying footsteps and hushed whispering. I was slightly confused until the conversation I had with the man yesterday popped into my mind. Several minutes later, everything went quiet. My blood had chilled at the eerie silence, realizing that I didn't have long until this building blew up, burning me along with it.

I desperately tried to knock down the door. I rammed against several times with each of my shoulders before I realized that it was no use. The door was too thick. I slammed my shackled hands against the door, yelling in frustration. A slight electric volt went through my wrists, but it wasn't as painful as usual.

I pause in my movements, tilting my head down at my cuffed hands in front of me. Having rammed them against the walls enough times in the past in an attempt to break them off, I knew for a fact that the volt should have been a lot more powerful and painful then it had been just then.

To make sure that I simply didn't imagine this, I once again slam my wrists against the concrete wall, suppressing a wince of pain at the impact. This time when the volt went through them, the pain was barely there.

Which meant the drug was starting to wear off.

 _I could use my powers._

Suddenly an alarm starts to blare through the building. It's loud enough to make my ears sting through the cuffs around my wrists prevented me from reaching up to cover my ears from the loud noise. Not that I would have had time to do so anyway. If an alarm was going off, then it meant that this building was even closer to blowing up then it had been moments before.

I had to get out of here. Now.

Taking a deep breath, I click my fingers hoping that fire would spark up in my hands, only to be met with disappointment when nothing happened. Knowing that time was of the essence here, however, I take another deep breath before I attempted to create the fire in once more. This time a slight spark appeared though it only lasted a second however before disappearing altogether.

 _Come on! Focus!_

I took another deep breath and counted to five slowly before I once again click my fingers a little more forcibly this time. Much to my delight, my fingers suddenly become engulfed in orange flames of a fire, indicating to me that it had worked.

"Yes!" I whoop before I then try to make it so that the fire travels up my wrists to where my hands are handcuffed. The metal starts to slowly melt from the heat of the fire and a couple of electric sparks flare up as the fire damages the circuits though due to my powers, this has no harm for me. A couple of minutes later, my hands are free and I place a hand on the concrete door. I grit my teeth as small cracks start to appear in the door, first small ones, until the door is covered with them. I take a step back, removing my hands from the door to wipe the sweat from my eyes, grinning as I do so.

 _"5:30."_

The sound of the sudden and unexpected countdown bouncing off the walls in my cell instils a feeling of utter and heart clenching panic as I realized that I had little over five minutes to escape the building. Without even hesitating I move my hands forward, pushing a huge blast of wind towards the door which comes apart in a cloud of dust and the sound of metal against metal rings through the room. Quickly yelling with triumph, I rush out of the door and surge off down the corridor.

The countdown still blares in my head as I run down the corridors, with only one thought in mind: _get the hell out of here._ My heart pumps with adrenaline and my vision blurs a little at the speed I am going but I don't dare to slow down, knowing that if I did then that was it for me: the building was going to blow any second.

 _"4:56."_

 _"_ _No sign of her anywhere, but we'll find her Sir."_

I almost stumble at the sound of a voice up ahead and around the corner, having not expected it at all. The words have my stomach doing nervous flips as I realized that someone else was in the building along with me, and judging from their words, they were looking for me. Something didn't have up, however: why would they still be here two minutes before the building was about to blow? Unless this was them making sure that there wasn't a chance for me to escape?

Pushing that thought aside, I don't break a stride as I feel electricity crack in the palm of my hands and I tear around the corridor, hands raised.

A man stands there in the middle of the corridor, his back to me. He doesn't turn around, not even when I sneak up behind him and suddenly place the hands on the base of his neck and send a jolt of electricity through his body. Not enough to kill him, but more to shock him and prevent him from attacking me.

He yells in pain- a shockingly familiar yell- and collapses to his knees, trembling slightly. I rush around to face him, my fist raised with the intention of slamming it straight into his face. "This is for-" I cut off immediately however and gasp in surprise when I see who it is.

 _"3:10."_

"Uncle Clint?" I ask in a voice barely above a whisper, my voice cracking with disbelief.

The familiar face of my Uncle looks up at me, his eyes slightly dazed and filled with disbelief themselves. When he sees that it's me that was standing in front of him, a slightly strained smile ghosts his lips. "Lydia," he happily groans, the sound of his voice which I hadn't heard for so long causing my eyes to glisten with tears. "What the Hell was that?"

Suddenly tears fall down my face as the events of the past ten months come rushing to me and a feeling of shock washes over me at seeing my Uncle on the ground in front of me. A sob suddenly escapes past my lips and I collapse to my trembling knees, tightly wrapping my arms around his shoulders, not wanting to let go. "I'm so sorry, I didn't know it was you."

He groans again but still wraps his arms around me as well, clinging to me as if his life depended on it. "It's good to see you too kid," he mumbles weakly, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."

"It's OK," I reply, pulling back and wiping the tears from my face, though his hands remain firmly on my shoulder. "You're here now."

He grins happily at this, but his face soon contorts into a confused frown.

"What did you just do to me? Have- it's like you just used one of Nat's spider bites?"

I laugh sadly and shake my head, knowing that his guess was far from the actual truth. "It's a long story."

 _"2.39."_

"Which I don't have time to tell you now," I say quickly, feeling the relief leave me and being replaced with a feeling of dread once more as the countdown continued. Reaching up briefly to give my still damp eyes a final wipe, I quickly pull myself to my feet and bring him up with me. "We need to get out of here now. This building is gonna blow."

He stands up slowly, worry plastered to every feature of his face. "I sort of guessed that with the countdown and all. Is there anyone else in the building?"

I shake my head before we then start to run in the direction that I had been heading in once more. "They evacuated everyone but me- they were trying to kill me and make it difficult for someone to find them, " I explain my arms pumping by my side as we darted down a corridor after corridor. "

 _God what if we didn't make it?_

"What country are we in?" I ask him, trying to distract myself from unwanted thoughts such as that one.

"France," Clint replied, never once breaking his stride. "We've been looking for you ever since you disappeared. Coulson, Nat, May, Kate,- Fury's got almost every agent out looking for you."

"Why?" I ask him confused. If a SHIELD agent ever goes missing, Director Fury would send a small team to track them down, and we would let our other facilities know. He would never send out almost every SHIELD agent, let alone all of his best ones."

"Because I asked him to," Clint explains. "Fury owed me a favour from back in the day so I asked for this. Nat and I searched by ourselves for the first three months but we couldn't find a trace of you. That's when I realized that we needed more help."

"How are Laura, Lila and Cooper?"

"They've been missing you. Lila especially-"

 _"1:11."_

 _No, no no no no no-_

"How far are we from the exit?" I yell over the still blaring countdown and alarm.

"Just keep running!" he shouts back. I push my legs harder and continue to run, almost crying with relief when we turn around the last corner moments later and are greeted with the sight of the outside world. As we run, all I can see ahead of me is snow covered ground and trees and in the distance, mountains. It was a beautiful sight, though I don't dwell on this for too long as we burst outside, our feet crunching against the snow as we do so.

We continue to run, the alarm and countdown fading into nothingness but that doesn't stop us from running. There was no telling how far would be considered a minimum safe distance, though it was rather hard for me to run properly in the snow due to me not wearing the right boots to do so. Determined to get to safety, however, we continued to press on, not daring to look back as we do so.

We both heard and felt the explosion when it occurred, with the ground shaking beneath our feet and causing us to go tumbling to the ground. Scrambling so that we were putting our weight on our backs, we finally look back to see if we had managed to move fast and far enough to get clear from the blast.

My head falls back onto the snow and I let out a breath that I didn't even realize that I was holding in in the first place as it became clear that we had narrowly missed getting caught in the explosion. Clint does the same, and for the next few moments, the two of us just lay there quietly in the snow, not saying a word to one another as we processed what had just happened. My mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, however. About what had just happened, Clint coming to rescue me, everything that had happened in the past ten months.

But the one that stood out the most?

 _I was free._

It was time to go home.


	2. Chapter 1: New Codename, Old Journal

**Chapter 1: New Codename, Old Journal**

To be out of the facility for the first time in ten months, felt too surreal for me. No longer did I find myself surrounded by dull, grey walls, or enemies that wanted only to inflict pain on me in some of the worse ways possible. I could now breath in the fresh air that I had been denied for so long by being in that place, which reeked of blood, tears and pain everywhere you went.

I was _free._

Something that I hadn't managed to fully comprehend yet.

My brain became a whirlwind of thoughts as my brain tried to properly comprehend everything that had occurred in the past twenty-four hours: especially the fact that Clint was here. He was _actually_ here, laying on the ground right beside me, ready to take me home. After ten months of hoping that this one would one day become true, it had finally happened.

And I couldn't be more relieved.

A violent cough racks my body as the air fills up with smoke from the explosion, the action causing pain to shoot up throughout my body. Despite the fact that I had spent the majority of yesterday locked in the small room, I had been forced to endure experiments the day beforehand, which had still left my body sore, the slightest of movements being enough to cause me pain.

Exhaustion suddenly washes over me along with the pain, leaving me more than content with laying here on the cold, snow-covered ground for a little while longer. But it seemed that Clint had other ideas.

"C'mon," he coughs, slowly pulling himself up from the ground beside me, the back of his uniform covered with snow. His voice came out cracked and raspy, due to the smoke that was no doubt filling his lungs and causing the coughs to spill past his own lips.

"There's a chopper waiting for us about ten minutes from here. We gotta go."

I don't immediately jump up at his words, choosing to close my ocean blue eyes, not quite ready to get up just yet. _Surely_ we had a few moments to spare. Just a few...

I blink my eyes open once more when a shadow is cast over my closed lids. Looking up, I am met with the sight of Clint standing over the top of me. He wore a look of understanding on his face, seemingly knowing just how exhausted I was and how the last thing that I wanted to do was to get up and run once more. But deep down, we both knew that staying here wasn't an option, with Clint gently urging, "I know you're tired Lyd, but you have to get up and keep going for a little longer, OK? We don't want to be here if someone comes back."

Fear gripped me at his words, causing my heart to beat painfully in my chest. The last thing that I wanted was to be found and dragged back to a new hell-hole, away from Clint and my new-found freedom. So with that thought in mind, I quickly pull myself up so that I was now standing beside him, my legs wobbly as my feet dug into the snow.

Clint shoots me an encouraging smile at my actions before then continuing, "Let's go."

We took off into a slow but steady run, with myself slipping and falling over more times than I could count. I was struggling to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground and there were numerous times where I had simply wanted to give up, though encouraging and promising words from Clint telling me that we were almost there, was enough to keep me going. So we ran through the white forest, leaving the fire and smoke from the remains of the building behind us.

By the time that we reached the edge of a clearing, my legs felt like lead and my breath was coming out in pained gasps. The only thing that was keeping me upright and motivated was the thought of being able to peacefully sleep once I was on the helicopter-something that I hadn't managed to have for a long time now. The moment that we break past the tree line and the chopper came into view, fresh tears sprung in my eyes, causing me to quickly raise a hand to my mouth to prevent a sob from tearing from my throat. I don't think it had dawned upon me until now that I was finally getting out of here. That I would soon be home with Clint, Laura, the kids and everyone else that I loved and missed, with the possibility of putting the compound and everything in it behind me.

As we come to a stop, Clint suddenly slings an arm over my shoulder and pulls me in tight to his side. "You did it Lyd- you're going home," he assures me, though I can only nod at his words, knowing that if I opened my mouth to answer him then I would lose it right then and there. Sensing just how overwhelmed I was, he only plants a chaste kiss on the side of my head before he then begins to lead me towards the chopper in front of us.

A few SHIELD agents came to meet us halfway, though I found myself shrinking back and into Clint as they began to try and take me from his side and speak to us at an alarmingly fast pace, claiming they wanted to do a medical check.

My uncle wasn't having any of it however as his grip on me tightens. "Give her some space," He says, something in his tone suggesting to our fellow agents that what he was saying wasn't up for discussion. "Let me get her on board first."

They nod, giving in to his wishes and stepping to the side to allow us access to the helicopter. With shaky legs, Clint leads me forward and helps me climb up into the aircraft, helping me into one of the free seats once we were on board.

I let out a breath that I didn't even realise I had been holding in the first place as I sag back against the wall of the helicopter behind me. As the aircraft begins to take off, I close my eyes to allow myself to take a moment and try and calm down, taking all the weight from my aching legs as I do so.

My moment of brief peace is interrupted, however, as a pressure in the form of a hand suddenly landing on the shoulder that Clint wasn't leaning against causes me to jolt up in surprise.

 _Enemy._

Without even thinking, my eyes snap open as a strangled cry of fear mixed with warning tears it's way up my throat, my clenched fist already swinging up before I even realise what it is that I'm doing.

Cries of pain and confusion erupt from the other people in the helicopter as the sickening sound of a person's nose breaking fills the small space as my hand sends the man who had touched me reeling backwards. A strong pair of arms snakes their arms around me before I can even lower my arm in an attempt to keep me lashing out once again though they didn't need to do so. The sight of the man who I punched wearing a now blood covered SHIELD shirt as other agents crowded around him, instils horror in me as I realise what I have done.

This man was friendly.

 _Not my enemy._

The words that Clint was currently muttering in an attempt to get back to calm down are drowned out by the sound of the blood rushing in my ear as I stared at the man in horror, ashamed of my actions: I had just harmed one of my fellow SHIELD agents. Someone who had done nothing to hurt me, but had suffered due to frightening me instead.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry- _I'm so sorry!_ " I cry as I watch tears spill down the face of the man I had just punched, his nose swollen and a bruise already forming on the sensitive skin as blood seeped past his nostrils.

 _What the hell have I done?_

Before I can utter another string of apologies, something sharp unexpectedly pricks my neck. Suddenly losing all control of my legs, I fall back into Clint and close my heavy lids giving into the black dots that had begun to swarm my vision the moment that I felt the unexpected jab.

* * *

It's been almost two days since I was rescued and bought back home from the facility in France. I discovered upon waking up that the small prick to my neck had been a needle sinking beneath my skin to release a tranquilliser into my veins in order to render me unconscious. It hadn't been Clint's call, but rather one of the other agents that had been in the chopper with us had insisted that it was probably the best thing to do, as he didn't want me lashing out once more.

I didn't blame him. Had I been in his shoes, I probably would have done the same thing in order to ensure that no other noses had been broken. According to Clint, the agent whom I had punched held nothing against me for my actions, claiming that it had been his own fault as he shouldn't have surprised me as he had. Not after everything that I had been through.

My uncle's words gave me no assurance, however, as I still blamed myself. All the man wanted to do was to check me over and make sure that I hadn't sustained any serious injuries that needed immediate treatment.

Instead, he got a broken nose.

When I woke up in one of SHIELD's infirmaries, I did receive a medical examination however where the Doctors informed me that I had new scars adorning my body. There were some on my hands where the fire had burned into the sensitive flesh there, and there were some on my face from blows received from the guards whenever I 'stepped out of line.'

Because _apparently_ protecting yourself is such a crime these days.

There were also a few cuts along my back caused by something that I didn't know. When the doctors tried to ask me where they had come from, however, my mind had gone blank. Much to my surprise, I couldn't offer them an explanation as to how they got there. The doctors told me not to worry. After everything that I had been through, they assured me that my mind may have blocked out some painful memories that would eventually come back to me over time.

I wasn't concerned with how they got there, however. I was more upset about the fact that they were _there._ I would have to carry them with me for the rest of my life, with them being simple yet painful reminders of my time in captivity. But there was nothing that I could do about it: they were now to be a part of me forever.

Other than the scars, the doctors told me that there didn't seem to be anything physically wrong with me. Emotionally and psychologically however...well. That was something else altogether.

They warned me that I may experience symptoms of PTSD in the next coming weeks such as flashbacks, agitation, nightmares or even emotional detachment. As a result, my sleeping could become unbalanced and I may wish to isolate myself. They urged me to consider seeing a therapist should this occur and asked Clint to keep an eye on me, should I show any signs of these symptoms.

The sound of the door on the opposite side of the room suddenly creaking open has me blinking open my sleepy eyes, pushing myself up from where I lay curled on my side in the bed. When I was properly upright, I am met with the surprising sight of Nick Fury, head of SHIELD and Phil Coulson

I sit up a little straighter as they both move forward and place themselves in the vacant seats around my bed. "It's good to see you, boss," I say quietly to Fury who was sitting on my left, before then turning to Coulson on the other side. "You too Coulson."

Coulson smiles at me. "We're happy to have you back Lydia," he informs me gently, his tone as genuine as the smile on his face.

Unlike Coulson, who seemed rather happy to make small talk first, Fury decided to skip straight to the point."We understand the fact that you're probably exhausted and that you just want to go home and sleep for a week Hathaway, but you know the protocol," He says, not unkindly. "We need you to tell us everything that happened to you, in your time of captivity."

So for the next hour, I explained to them what had happened and I answer questions that they asked:

 _No, I didn't know why they chose me._

 _No, I didn't hear any names of people that interrogated me or tortured me._

 _No, I did not know where this new facility was._

 _Yes, their experiments worked on me._

After Coulson asked the last question, Fury curiously leans forward in his seat. "And what exactly did these experiments make you be able to do?"

Deciding that showing him rather than simply telling them about the abilities that I had received from the experiments, I remain silent and instead slowly raise up my hands. They watch me closely, though they don't question what it was that I was doing. Slowly counting to three in my head, I click both of my hands and watch as orange flames engulf my fingers as a result.

Fury looks surprised and leans back, covering his mouth with his hand, staring at the fire. Coulson's eyes widen and he leans slightly forward, even more, his eyes glinting with excitement. "You can control fire?"

I shake my head. "Not just fire," I explain before I flick my left wrist up and the water from the cup on the table next to my bed, flings out of it, making Coulson leap out of the way to avoid getting wet. He doesn't have to worry though- the water stays together, high in the air. I flick my wrist from left to right, causing the water to do the same.

"You can control the elements," Fury states, his eye following the movement of the water.

I nod and extinguish the fire from my hands and slowly lower the water back down into the cup. Once its properly settled, I lower my wrists and turn to face the two men. "Fire, Water, Air, Earth and subcomponents, such as Ice, Temperature, Weather and Electricity," I explain to them.

Both men let my words sink in before Fury asks me, "And can you fully control them?"

I have to restrain from flinching at his words, knowing perfectly well that this was going to happen. I had known when I first woke up that Fury would immediately become suspicious of me and my abilities. SHIELD had a habit of monitoring gifted and powerful people such as Tony Stark, and now that I was able to control and manipulate the elements, I knew that they would be keeping a close eye on me as well. That, or being put on the index: SHIELD's list and profiles of people with abilities.

But nothing could prepare me for the look of mistrust and caution that Fury was currently sending my way. As if I was some sort of...

 _Monster_.

Swallowing the lump that had formed in the back of my throat at his question, I tightly correct him, "You mean am I a threat."

"You and I both know what I mean, Agent. But that doesn't change my question."

"I've been doing it for two months, and I haven't hurt anybody with them yet," I stress, trying to keep the strain from my voice as I spoke. "I wouldn't use these powers for anything bad. I joined SHIELD because I want to help protect people, not destroy them."

"If I may add, Director," Phil says turning to face Fury. "Agent Hathaway could potentially use her powers as a weapon for her fieldwork. It would add advantage to our ranks. You and I both know sir, that Lydia is a dedicated SHIELD agent."

Fury lets Coulson's words sink in before he sighs. "As long as you can control them, and not use them against innocents, I don't see why things can't be the same as they were before. Figure we should give you a new code name though."

Despite the fact that his previous words had upset me, I found myself growing somewhat excited with his new ones. If you were considered an advanced agent, you were given a code name rather than just being called Agent all the time. Clint's was Hawkeye and Nat's was Black Widow. "What did you have in mind boss?" I ask calmly, trying my best to hide my excitement.

He pauses briefly before a small smile creeps onto his face. "How's The Element sound to you?"

* * *

 **1 Year Later**

The sight of the familiar farmhouse that I had lived in for the past several years looming in front of me causes a warmth to blossom in my chest. I had been almost three months since I had seen it and during this time I had missed it more than words could describe. For two months I had been following as many leads as I could that I thought would have to lead me to the people who kidnapped me two years prior. Yet all I had been met with was disappointment and dead-ends, resulting in my search being a massive failure.

I bring the car to a slow stop in the place where I usually kept it parked, my eyes still locked on the silent house in front of me. It was late afternoon on a Tuesday, so I knew that there wouldn't be anyone at home. Laura would be finishing work and Lila and Cooper would be at the kindergarten and school that was a half hour drive from here. If Clint was home and not on a mission, then he would already be halfway there to pick up his son and daughter, leaving me home alone.

Turning off the engine and pulling my key from the ignition, I pull up the handbrake before grabbing my packed duffel bag from the seat beside me and awkwardly slinging it over my shoulder. Grunting slightly as I struggled with the weight of it, I open my car door and slide out, kicking it closed once more once I'm standing upright and out of the way.

The house was locked and I didn't happen to have my key on me, though I knew where the spare was. For as long as I could remember, Clint had always hidden it underneath a rock under the porch steps for both him and me to use when we forgot our own. We were always forgetting to bring them with us at times or we simply just lost them when we were sometimes out and working in the shed or out in the fields, much to Laura's amusement.

As expected, the house was deathly quiet, except for the sound of a clock ticking on the wall. Everything was as I remembered it, though there was a pile of Lego in the entrance of the lounge that Cooper had probably been playing with this morning before he left for school. Careful not to tread on it, I simply nudge it to the side with my foot before then taking the stairs two at a time.

My bedroom hasn't changed much in all my years that I've lived here. The pale blue walls are still the same ones that I painted myself when I first moved here. My double bed sits against the back wall, the bottom facing the door, with a huge window overlooking the front yard above it. To the left, is a small night-stand with a lamp and alarm clock on it and even further to the left pressed up against the wall is my desk that has my normal laptop and my SHIELD one on top of it. Next to the desk is the huge bookshelf filled with all the books that I've collected over the years. To the right side of the room, there's a door that leads to my own bathroom and next to that is my vanity table. Photos of my friends and I adorn the walls, as well as the few photos I have with the few family members that I have left.

Kicking off my shoes, I surge forward and chuck the still heavy duffel bag on the end of my bed, my shoulder screaming with relief once the heavyweight was removed. Reaching down to unzip it, I begin to rummage through it before I find my folder of newly written notes, quickly chucking that further up on my bed. Though the search had given me nothing, I knew better to throw away any notes on the people who took me and their possible whereabouts, as there was a chance that they could provide me with something useful later.

I spent four months after I had been rescued to try and track the organisation that had tortured me and countless of others for their own benefits, many who had been killed in the process. SHIELD had helped with the search as well, with myself and numerous other agents travelling over every continent at least three times in an attempt to find but. Whoever these guys were, they were good at hiding themselves from the world. After four months of dead ends and no new information, Fury had decided to close the case and withdraw his agents from the search. Unlike Fury, I was reluctant to stop looking. I wanted not only revenge but answers as well. About how it was that these people gave me the abilities and what drug they had injected me with. Scientists and doctors, some of the best from SHIELD, had poked and prodded me for months after I had been rescued, trying to figure out how it was that I was able to do what I could. But they could offer me nothing in the end: they knew just as much as I did.

Which was absolutely nothing.

So I never stopped looking. Even when each search only led me to disappointment.

The thought of the organisation and the fact that I still hadn't managed to find them causes me to tug harshly on my blonde strands of hair, my eyes glancing out the window and landing on the tree house that I had helped Clint build for Lila and Cooper three summers ago. The kids had been so excited when we had first finished building it that they had insisted that we spent the night sleeping in it. I had caved in easily and the three of us had piled sleeping bags, lollies and lanterns up there, telling each other stories. It was then that little Cooper had asked me, "Lydia, do you miss your Mom?"

Knowing that Cooper had been too young to understand the truth, I had only sent him a strained smile and replied gently, "Of course," hoping that he couldn't see straight past my lie.

To be quite honest, I didn't miss her as much as I should. When she had been alive, the relationship between the two of us had been strained. With her being a SHIELD agent, she was constantly away on missions leaving me in the care of Gran or Scott. When she was home safe and sound she didn't exactly interact much with me either. She never told me she loved me, nor did she have much time for me.

I had been confused as a child. All of my other friends had doting mothers who told them they loved them every day and would spend as much time as they could with one another-but, not my Mom. I didn't realise until I was much older than my mother never wanted a child. Clint and Laura always assured me that my mother had loved me, though I wasn't fooled. I could only remember her ever being cold and abrasive, especially towards me. As far as I knew, she thought of me as nothing but an accident that she was stuck with.

She never told me who my father was, despite the fact that I had begged her to tell me on more than one occasion, so he was never part of the picture as well. I had always assumed that she refused to tell me who he was because their relationship had ended badly. She never confirmed nor denied this, however, leaving me only with my imagined thoughts and curiosity as to who he was.

The sound of the front door opening drags me out of my thoughts and turning towards my own door, tilting my head so that I could hear who it was that was home. Judging from the sound of heavy boots and the sound of children laughing, I gathered that it was Clint and the kids.

Excitement about seeing them again after so long causes me to surge forward and hurry out of my room, descending the stairs at an alarmingly fast pace.

They don't hear me as I clamber down the stairs, nor do they see me first when I pause in the doorway of the kitchen. Lila and Cooper were happily sitting at the kitchen table, babbling with one another as Clint rummaged around in the fridge, no doubt looking for something that the two of them could eat as an afternoon snack.

I can't help but smile fondly at them, my heart swelling as I looked at my small, little family. When I had first moved in after my mother's death, I wasn't exactly happy or comfortable. I had been worried that I wouldn't fit in, as Laura and Clint had a baby due at any time and that Laura and wouldn't like the fact that I was moving in. A small part of me even dreaded that Clint would do exactly as my mother had and ignore me most of the time, but I had been completely and utterly wrong. Laura had been nothing but welcoming, assuring me more than once that living with them was honestly no hassle at all and that she wouldn't have it any other way.

As for Clint? He had been the same, loving, sarcastic, dorky uncle that he had always been. I had found myself a family, viewing Clint and Laura more as parental figures than I did my own mother.

Lila suddenly glances away from her older brother and towards the doorway where I still stood, as if somehow sensing my presence. The moment that her eyes land on me, they widen and a small gasp passes her lips, her whole face lighting up as she sees me.

" _Lydiaaaa_!" She suddenly squeals, causing myself, Cooper and Clint to each jump with surprise at the noise. She pays them little attention however as she suddenly pushes herself off the chair and launches towards me, with myself already bending down so that I was level with her.

"Hey, Lila!" I exclaimed happily as she flings herself into my arms, causing me to lean back and lose my balance briefly. I manage to keep myself upright however as she slips her small arms around my back, my own slipping around her while I rested my chin gently on her small shoulder. Looking up, my eyes locked with Clint's whose mouth was parted in surprise as he saw me kneeling in front of him, though his eyes sparkled with happiness at the same time.

I pull back from my cousin to get a proper look at her, sending her a warm smile. "How have you been, hm? You've gotten so big!"

She nods her head with excitement, a small giggle passing her lips. "I've grown! This much!" She declares before she then flings her arms out to the side as far as she could possibly get them, the sight causing for me to let out a small chuckle.

"I grew too!" Cooper exclaims as he rushes up behind her, all but pushing his sister out of the way to get to me.

"Coops, be careful," Clint lightly scolds though his son ignores him as he informs me proudly, "And our team made it into the semi-finals! Did you want to come and watch us play soon?"

I nod my head eagerly, practically beaming down at the small boy in front of me. "That's awesome Coops! And of course, I will-are you still liking baseball?"

He nods his head as Clint closes the fridge, two juice boxes in his hands. "Like it? He loves it," he snorts, reaching down with his free hand to ruffle his son's hair. "He practices pretty much every day, don't you Coops?"

Cooper nods his head, a toothy smile plastered to his face as he gingerly reaches up to take one of the juice boxes from Clint's hand, who offers the other to Lila. As Cooper pulls away from me, I straighten up so that I was standing once more, smiling up at my uncle.

"Anything?" he asks quietly so that Cooper and Lila couldn't hear us over the sound of them attempting to rip the plastic from around the straws.

Though he hadn't said anything, I knew immediately what it was that he was asking about, feeling my smile drop as I give a small shake of my head, his words reminding me of my failure once more. I watch as disappointment flashes across his face at this, before he then turns to his children beside us. "Coops, Lila, why don't you go and finish those outside, yeah? Maybe have a bit of a play on the swings as well," he suggests. With everything that we had to endure as spies, we tried to keep Lila and Copper out of the loop as much as possible: they were far too young to find out what exactly our job entitled. The last thing that we wanted was for them to hear Clint and I discussing the group of people who kidnap people against their will and experiment on them.

It seems we had nothing to worry about though, as the mention of the swings has both of them quickly nodding their head in agreement. Cooper quickly rushes to the back door with Lila hot on his heels, though she pauses briefly and turns around to look at me. "Will you come out and push soon, Lydia?" She asks me, her doe brown eyes wide with hope.

I manage to form a smile on my lips once more, even though smiling was currently the last thing that I wanted to do. "Of course I'll be a couple of minutes, OK?"

My words seem to satisfy her as she nods her head in agreement and rushes out and after Cooper, disappearing from sight.

The minute that the two of us are alone in the kitchen, a troubled frown seeps onto Clint's face. "What went wrong?"

The smile that I had plastered to my face for Lila vanishes as I let out a small huff of annoyance. "Another dead end. By the time that I arrived at the warehouse, there was nothing there for me to find. Either it's been empty for a long time or my source wasn't reliable."

"Where was it again?"

"Belgium," I explain as I move towards the seat which Lila had been sitting in moments before, Clint moving so that he could sit in the one opposite me. "I was so sure that this could be it. It's not that far from where you found me either. But it turned out to be just another dead end..."

Clint easily picks up on my defeated tone and is quick to respond with an optimistic smile. "At least it's another one that you can cross off," he points out gently to me. "Who was your source anyway?"

"Guy called David Lieberman, or Micro as some people know him. He's a national security agency analyst. I don't know him personally, but I pulled some strings with SHIELD and got him to see if he could find something useful. Evidently, this proved not to be true," I grumble, tapping my fingers on the table in irritation. "Now I'm back to square one."

He thinks quietly to himself for a moment before he then says slowly, "Just because there was nothing there doesn't mean that they weren't there at some stage. Maybe you should get this guy to check again?"

I'm shaking my head before he's even finished suggesting that idea. "Before I took off, Micro told me that this was it. This was all that he could find and all he would find. He has a family to take care of: he's worried that if he keeps on snooping, then these guys may target him next."

I don't blame him either. When we had been talking over the phone, Micro had sounded rather guilty about refusing to search for any more leads, but he had been firm in his decision. He had a wife, two kids- the last thing that he wanted was to put them in harm's way. After seeing what these people were capable of for ten months, I didn't resent him for backing out in the slightest. It was perfectly reasonable for him wanting to protect his family, and I told him as such.

"There wasn't anything for me to gather Intel on anyway," I continue quietly. "They've disappeared off the grid once again."

"We'll get them eventually Lyd," Clint affirms, an ounce of anger in his voice as he spoke. It angered him that the people who had hurt me were still out there and doing the exact same thing to other people as young as I was- some even younger. "We just have to keep trying."

I only nod my head at this, not quite believing what it was that he was saying. I couldn't help but think that if we were going to find these people, then we would have done so sooner We had been searching for a year now and there was nothing. No sightings, no news, no rumours-nothing. I had even gone as far as looking into the cases of recent disappearances of young people thinking that their disappearances were caused by my captors. But they were smart. They took people that wouldn't necessarily be missed such as orphans or the homeless, once again leaving no breadcrumbs behind for me to follow.

"Nat will be happy to see you at least," He says with a smile, the tension lifting slightly with the shift in conversation. "She's over in Japan at the moment doing something for Fury, but I'll have to invite her over for dinner soon. She misses you."

"I miss her too," I admit. The red-headed assassin that was best friends with my uncle was also a close friend of my own. I hadn't seen her for months now, as she had been working a case before I had left as well and Clint bringing her up now only made me want to see her even more. "What about you? Has Fury been keeping you busy with missions as well?"

He shakes his head at this. "Nah. Everything is pretty quiet at the moment. I've been enjoying the break, though."

"Good."

"Fury's been keeping a close eye on Stark though."

I feel my brows raise up to my hairline at this, intrigued by my uncle's words. He notices the curious expression on my face as he elaborates, "Stark's been stirring up some trouble of late with his flying suit. It's got the government nervous and he's supposed to be going to some sort of meeting with them in the next couple of months. Fury's keeping an eye on him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid until then."

"Do you think they'll ask him to hand up the suit?"

He shrugs. "Who knows? Whether or not he does in the end if they do ask him is a completely different story. You know what Stark's like."

I slowly nod my head in agreement with this, the more that I think about it, the less that I believe that Tony Stark would give up his suit if the government asked him to do so. Though I didn't know him personally, I knew enough about him to know that he was far too stubborn to do something like that.

Besides, I didn't exactly think he had done anything too bad with his suit. He had managed to stop Obadiah Stane from wreaking havoc on the world with his own suit and had been fairly responsible in using it. But I knew that this was the government simply being scared, too concerned with the fact that Tony Stark had something powerful that trumped anything technological that they owned.

The sound of the back door creaking open once more has Clint and I turning around, where we are greeted with the sight of Laura standing there, absent-mindedly twirling her car keys in her hand. She sends a loving smile to Clint who in turn mirrors this before her dark eyes then land on me. I watch as they widen in surprise before her smile turns into a grin. "When did you get back, hun?" she asks me happily as she moves towards me, though I was already up and standing with the intention of meeting her halfway.

"Literally about ten minutes ago," I inform her before she then engulfs me in a hug.

I return it, smiling happily as she informs me that she was glad that I was finally back home. But no sooner had these words left her lips when she was suddenly pulling back and away from me, her smile slipping slightly as she shoots me a stern look and keeps her hands firmly on my shoulders. "Did you sleep?"

I have to suppress from sighing at this, having grown used to this being one of the first things that she asked me whenever I returned home from a search. The Doctors hadn't been lying when they told me that my sleep routine may be a little off. When I wasn't waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares or dreams of my time in captivity, I simply wasn't falling asleep. Sleep onset Insomnia was what the doctors had said it was: a repercussion of my time in captivity.

The lack of sleep that I got wasn't good for an agent. We needed our sleep to regain our strength for the next mission. Despite the fact that this had been occurring for little over a year now, I somehow managed to survive a year's worth of missions and searches, though this didn't stop those I loved from worrying about me.

"Better than normal," I reply, feeling a twinge of guilt for lying to her.

If she picked up on the fact that I was lying, however, she doesn't point it out. Instead, she nods, satisfied with my answer before the grin then returns to her face. "I have something for you," she says.

I squint my eyes at this, wondering exactly what it was that she was talking about though I say nothing as she turns and hurries towards the kitchen sink. I shoot Clint a questioning look when she had her back turned to me, but he only sends me a small smile.

"We've been waiting for you to come home before we gave it to you..." Laura informs me, her voice sounding muffled as she bent down and opened the cupboard door.

Not knowing what it was that she was talking about had me tugging on my bottom lip nervously, casting yet another questioning look to Clint. "It's not something that bites, is it?" I ask in a voice barely above a whisper.

He can't contain a snigger at this, clearly finding my confusion and fear amusing. He sobers up however when I send him a glare though there was still a tiny, amused smirk stuck on his lips. "No...no. It's not something that bites. It isn't even alive."

"Besides: why on earth would we keep some kind of animal under the sink?" Laura adds. She makes a small noise of victory when she finds whatever it is that she's looking for, before quickly drawing back and shuffling where she sat on the ground. With her body now angled towards me, she grins and holds her arms out in front of her, grasping something tightly in her left hand.

My eyes immediately land on the object, frowning in confusion when I saw what it was. "OK. So you've been waiting two months to give me a black book?"

The grin vanishes from my Aunt's face altogether as she lightly rolls her eyes. "Not just any book," she remarks, something in her tone suggesting that there was more to the book then met the eye. I say nothing however as she completely pulls herself to her feet, her pale hands reaching forward to hold the object out for me. When I don't immediately pry it from her pale hands, she adds, "It's a very special book."

"How so?"

"It was your mother's diary."

I feel my mouth drop in a small 'o' at this revelation, my hands automatically lifting to grab the book. Laura lets me take it, watching me as I stare down at it in my hands. The book was thick, no doubt containing pages upon pages of notes, stories and thoughts written by my mother that had never been shared with anyone else. My hands work their way around the cover so that I am able to turn open the book to a random page, looking down at my mother's neat scrawl in front of me.

"Where did you find this?" I ask them quietly, my eyes never leaving the book in my hands as I spoke.

"Loose floorboard in the lounge-room," Clint explains. "I don't know what it was doing there. Stac must have left it there and forgotten about it before she died."

I only absent-mindedly nod at this, licking my lips thoughtfully as I stared down at the book. There's a part of me that wants to open it and read all of its content, though another part of me is hesitant. A diary was a very personal and secretive thing, something that wasn't meant for prying eyes. Should I seriously even be considering reading this, even if it had belonged to my mother?

Laura must've been able to read in the indecision on my face because she says to me, "Don't be afraid to read it Lyd. It could be a chance to get to know your mother."

 _It's not like she's going to come back and kill you for reading it anyway,_ a small voice spoke from the back of my mind. _She's gone and she's not coming back._

Right. She was dead. She had died, leaving so many questions that I had for her unanswered. Questions that could only be answered by her.

Questions that could be answered with this very book.

"I'll see you for dinner," I mumble quietly. With my mind made up, I glance up to shoot the two of them an unsure smile. "I've got some reading to do."


	3. Chapter 2: Finding Bruce

You'd think that reading your mother's journal would be interesting, especially if it could give you some insight as to who she was as a person and about things that had happened in her life. I thought it would have been, considering as I never really knew her when she had been alive. Hell, I even thought that there could be something here for me to find.

But in reality?

It was completely and utterly _boring._

I've been reading through the book for hours now, having only stopped to return downstairs to push Lila and Cooper on the swings as promised and to help with dinner and the clean up afterwards. Shortly after I had excused myself and returned to my room to resume reading once more, hoping that I would eventually give me some clue as to who my father was, thinking that there was a possibility that his identity could be revealed in this book.

So far, however, this proved to be not true. Each of my mother's entries spanned across her early teen years and late ones, leaving me to learn all about her friends, boys she liked, gossip-things that completely went over my head. These people were of no significance for me, as harsh as it sounded. I knew nothing about them and wasn't exactly thrilled or entranced by the gossip that my mother had written down. I wanted to learn about her hopes, dreams, her wishes. I wanted to find out why she had joined SHIELD as young as she had, and how she had met my father. How she had thought about me when I was just a baby.

But there was nothing.

I can't suppress a sigh of disappointment as I read the second last entry, my vision blurred slightly as I read over the last words. It was starting to grow late, and I knew that I was going to have to call it a night soon. But knowing that I had only one entry left to read gave me the motivation to flick over to the next page and begin reading my mother's last thoughts written onto paper:

 _15th April_

 _When I came home today, I was welcomed with an unwanted letter from my father in the mailbox. Its the first time since I've heard from him in over eleven years now, and I still want absolutely nothing to do with him. He broke my mother's heart and then left, even after she told him she was pregnant with me. No word from him until after I was born and next thing you know, he shows up when I was eleven years old with a five-year-old boy who turned out to be my half-brother. He then dumped him into our hands and took off again._

 _The letter had been an unwelcome surprise and part of me wanted to tear it up and put it in the bin or in the fire. Curiosity got the better of me though and I opened the thing, shocked at what I discovered._

 _I have a cousin called Bruce Banner._

I feel one of my brows shoot up in surprise at this. Another cousin? It certainly wasn't my father, but I was finally getting some clues about my grandfather's side of the family which I didn't know much about. Like it had said in my mother's journal, he hadn't exactly been around while she and Clint had grown up, resulting in her knowledge on him and his family being kept to a minimum. Everything she did know she had refused to tell me, stating that Clint was the only member from that side of the family that mattered.

Evidently, however, this was no longer the case.

 _Bruce has no clue who his uncle is- or that he's related to me. Dad has asked me to go and meet Bruce and tell him about us and him. He's apparently too 'sick' to do it. I don't believe him and I am so tempted not to go find Bruce. But I know that I will, and I have too. If what Dad says is true, then Bruce is family and I don't give up on my family._

My fingers dig into the cover of the book at this, her words frustrating me more than they should. If she didn't give up on family, then why the hell did she give up on me?

 _Dad has unfortunately not given me any information on how to contact Bruce. Looks like I'm on my own._

Quickly reaching the bottom page, I turn over to the next one finding it completely bare. Having forgotten that there weren't any more entries for me to read, I let out a sigh of frustration and slam the book close. I had read the book to find answers to my questions, though reading it had only left me with even more.

Chucking the book to the side, I lean back on my bed as a million different thoughts swirled around in my mind. Did Mom ever find Bruce Banner? If she did, then why haven't I heard anything about him until now? Where was he? Does Clint possibly have answers for me?

The last thought has me suddenly springing up from my bed and lurching forwards towards the door. Thinking that Clint may be able to give me some more information about this Bruce Banner, I quickly fling the door open, only to be met with darkness and a silent house. Having forgotten how late it was, I realise now that the rest of the Bartons were sound asleep and probably had been for a long time. Not particularly keen on disturbing them, I only frown and step back into my room, closing the door behind me. Any questions that I had for Clint was going to have to wait until tomorrow.

Rather than retreating back to my bed where I had originally been sitting, I hurry over to my desk and throw myself in my chair, reaching across to grab my laptop closer towards me, turning it on and typing 'Bruce Banner' into the search bar.

Numerous of links come up as a result and I search through most of them, though in the end, I decide that none of them are legitimate leads. Thinking that there may be something in the diary that may point me in the right direction, I hurry back to the bed and pick the journal up. After a few moments of flicking through the last few empty pages, I almost leap with joy when I find _Culver University,_ neatly scrawled on the inside of the back cover, the ink noticeably darker than the writing in the earlier half of the book.

This writing was relatively new.

A thought then suddenly comes to me as I trace my finger over the two words. What if my mother hadn't actually forgotten the diary, like Clint said she had? What if she had left it behind for either Clint or I to find so that we could track down Bruce? It wasn't exactly that far-fetched of an idea, especially with the coincidental writing that I had just discovered.

But it begs the question of why she hadn't just told us where he was in the first place. Something didn't match up here.

These thoughts swirled in my head as I then type in as fast as I can 'Bruce Banner, Culver University' into the search bar and sure enough, a dozen links of Dr Bruce Banner pop up, leading me to discover that he was once a professor at Culver University. I click on the first link and begin to read. An image of Bruce comes up. He has curly dark hair and quite tanned skin and I can see some resemblance between him and my mother though not much.

As I read, I learn that Bruce specialised in Nuclear Physics, Gamma Radiation and Biochemistry- _bloody intelligent_ -and had completely disappeared from the university after an explosion in the lab he had been working on almost three years ago, with no trace to of him anywhere.

 _Damn it._

Rubbing my tired eyes in frustration, I quickly grab my SHIELD laptop opening up my emails and send a message to Director Fury himself, asking him to contact me sometime tomorrow, by phone or by email as I want to track down Bruce Banner. It was far too late to call him, but hopefully, he could provide me with some helpful information. Maybe even Clint knows something. Whatever the case, I need to know whether my Mom found him or not, and if she did, then why didn't she tell me about him. I also wanted to know where he is now.

Because I want to meet him for myself.

* * *

The next morning I wake up later than usual, long after Laura had left for work and Lila and Cooper had been dropped off at school. With the intention of making myself some breakfast, I quickly make my way downstairs and into the kitchen where I am met with the sight of Clint sitting at the table, drinking a steaming cup of coffee.

The sight of my uncle has me remembering everything that I had discovered last night about Bruce, prompting me to ask him as I moved forward, "Did Mom ever find Bruce Banner?"

My words cause for his eyes to lock with my own as he stares at me over the top of his mug which he had just bought up to his lips to sip from. Despite the fact that half of his face was obscured by doing this, I could tell that my question had surprised him, judging from the way his light blue eyes widened after I spoke.

After swallowing his mouthful of coffee he lowers his drink and lets out a long and weary sigh. "I take it you finished your Mom's diary?"

I nod before I then sit in the opposite him. "I know about Bruce and how Mom was going to try and track him down. But it never said if she managed to do so or not. Do you know if she did?"

To both my surprise and excitement, he nods his head. "It took her a while but she managed to get into contact with him six months before you were born. He was a little bit older than I was at the time. They stayed in contact over the years until she passed."

"You didn't try to contact him?"

He shrugs nonchalantly, casting his eyes to the table in front of him. "Not until about three years ago. I told him my connection to Stacey but he didn't want anything to do with me. He said it was too dangerous for me to be around him, or something like that," He explains, his brows furrowing as he spoke. "He disappeared off the grid completely after that."

I feel my own brows furrow in confusion at his words, my lips tugging down into a frown. It was too dangerous to be around him? Too dangerous for him to be around his own family? That didn't make sense. The rest of my uncle's story did though. According to the article, three years ago was when Bruce had vanished completely, right after the explosion at the University.

"Do you know why it was apparently too 'dangerous'?"

He shakes his head much to my disappointment. "No clue. I tried looking for him myself just before you were captured, but I never found him. I was meant to go and talk to Fury about possibly finding him with a little help from SHIELD, but then I got the news about you," he explains softly, tearing his eyes to look up at me once more.

 _Its best not to fidget, Subject 207. it will only make the pain worse-_

 _Aching, throbbing, stinging pain-_

 _'Please stop'-_

 _My name...my name is Lydia Hathaway-_

 _Screams echoing off the walls-_

 _Again-_

Painful memories of my time spent in the facility begin to flash in my mind at his words, though I manage to push them to the side before they can cause any real damage. Swallowing the lump that had both unexpectedly and quickly formed in my throat at the appearance of the visions, I declare to Clint, "I want to find him. I sent a message to Fury last night asking if he had anything for me. Hopefully, he gets back to me soon."

The look of uncertainty that flashes across my uncle's face at this has my heart sinking, as I suddenly dread whatever it was that he was about to say. "Are you sure about finding him?" He asks carefully, his cautious tone making my heart sink even further. The one simple question that had just passed his lips made it clear to me that he wasn't as eager to find Bruce as I was.

This is further confirmed when adds pointedly, "I mean, he obviously disappeared for a reason, and I'm guessing that it's not a particularly good one if he has to vanish completely..."

I don't respond immediately to this but instead, sit in silence to properly collect the many thoughts that were whirling around in my head at his question. There were numerous reasons as to why I wanted to find him. Firstly, he was family. Besides Clint, Laura, the kids and Sharon, I didn't have much family. My mother had always been reluctant to share our family history, and my lack of knowledge had instilled a curiosity in me about my family, and a determination to find out as much as I could about it. Finding Bruce would enable me to gain more information and a deeper understanding of a side of my family I knew little about.

Secondly, family was important to me. Because I had such a small one, it was something that was very dear to me and I had and always would be willing to go to any extent to ensure that my family was safe. Considering the fact that Bruce had disappeared completely, I was willing to bet that whatever the cause of his departure was, it was troubling.

If he was in trouble, then I wanted to help him.

Because unlike my mother (despite her claims) I didn't give up on my family.

"I don't really care as to why he vanished, but I want to meet him. He's family, and...there's the possible chance that he knows who my father is," I explain in a small voice.

Clint scrunches his nose at this. "Lyd, if your Mom didn't tell me or her own mother who your father is, then why would she tell someone whom she barely knew?"

I get where he's coming from. In a way, it doesn't really make sense and it was probably a long shot in the end. But I still can't help but think that there was a possibility, even the smallest of possibilities, that there was a chance that she had told him.

"Is the reason that you want to find this guy so bad, is because you want to know who your father is?" Clint asks me quietly.

Staring at him, I could tell that he was trying exceptionally hard to keep any emotion off of his face. But having known him long enough to realise when he was upset or hurt, I could easily tell that he was so now. Clearly the thought of me finding my father troubled him, and I can't help but feel slightly guilty as I realised that my words were making my uncle uncomfortable.

To say that Clint and I have a good relationship would be an understatement. Though he was my uncle, I viewed him more as a parental figure and according to Nat and Laura, he regarded me as his own daughter.

I've lived with him for over ten years now and I remember all the countless times that he's been there for me where a father should be for his own daughter. Teaching me how to play baseball and ride a bike when I was younger, my mother never bothering to teach me these things. Having one on one games out in the field behind the shed with Laura sometimes joining in on the games or Cooper when he was old enough.

The way that he would offer me help with any homework that I found difficult as a kid, paying for school fees and teaching me how to drive. Giving me a standing ovation at my high school graduation, a proud smile on my face as I walked up to receive my diploma a year earlier than the other kids my age. Every meeting with a boyfriend that I had been dating at the time, trying his best to be civil but eventually threatening the terrified boy at the end, causing Laura and I to laugh about it later.

I realise now that talking to Clint about finding my absent father was probably making me seem ungrateful about everything that he had done for me. Why would he want to talk about a man that had never been part of my life, when Clint had already filled his shoes?

The last thing that I wanted was for Clint to think that I was ungrateful for everything that he had done and to believe that he wasn't of any importance to me: he practically was the person whom I considered the most important and dear to me, and nothing was ever going to change that. Not even some guy who had left before I was even born.

"It may not even happen. Fury may have nothing on him to give to me," I try to assure him.

He only sighs. "Knowing Fury, he probably does. He knows just about everything," he says pointedly.

I knew instantly what he was referring to when he said this. When Clint had first joined SHIELD, he had requested to Fury that he kept the fact that he had a wife (and later kids) off from SHIELD's files. Clint had known that if you work for SHIELD, then chanced were you were going to make a lot of enemies along the way. Enemies that could hurt those you loved-which was the last thing that anyone wanted.

Of course, there wasn't much that Clint could do to hide from SHIELD that I was his niece, due to the fact that I was an agent myself. But as far as the other agents were concerned, he and Sharon Carter were the only family that I had left. The only other agents who knew the truth being the Director, Maria Hill, Phil Coulson and Nat. Hopefully, it would remain this way as well.

"So you're going to leave straight away if you get a lead?" Clint now inquires.

I shrug. "As much as I want to stay, most likely, yes. The quicker I leave, the shorter time it will take to find him. If he disappeared because it was too dangerous for him to be around his own family, then its probably too dangerous for him to be amongst citizens too. He's probably somewhere very secluded."

Clint just nods his head and takes another sip of his coffee, before he looks back at me and suggests, "I could go with you?"

As much as I would love for him to come with me, I find myself shaking my head. "You need to be here with your family," I inform him softly. "Especially since you have some time off."

"Well, you're my family," Clint points out. "And Laura, Lila and Coops are yours. You need to be here too," he adds. "I mean, Lyd you only just got back."

I stare at my clasped hands that are placed on the table in front of me. I do feel guilty, about the possibility of me taking off again for who knows how long when I've only been back myself for not even twenty-four hours. I knew that Clint and Laura and the kids missed me and I missed them too- but Bruce was somewhere out there, and he needs to be with his family.

"It would drive me insane sitting here and waiting for a who knows how long to go and find him. The sooner I leave, the sooner I'll be back too."

Clint just shakes his head, a tight smile glued to his lips. "Jesus, you're exactly like your mother sometimes," he informs me. "She was just as stubborn as you are."

I give him a small smile. "I'll find him," I promise to Clint, finding myself growing more determined as I spoke the words out loud. "Whatever it takes, I'll find Bruce."

The smile disappears from his face to instead be replaced with a frown, his blue eyes studying me carefully. "Yeah. I know Lyd. That's what I'm worried about," he tells me quietly.

* * *

After I have a quick breakfast, have a shower and change into some clean clothes I wait impatiently in my room for an hour and a half for Fury to reply to my message. For the moment I was trying to fill up my time by reading a book though I found that I couldn't concentrate on the words in front of me. It took me several times to read over a single sentence before I realised that I wasn't going to be able to comprehend what it was that I was reading, causing me to toss the book on the bed with a huff of defeat, wondering what the hell do to next.

Generally, all my time is filled up with SHIELD missions, tracking down whoever made me able to control the elements or spending some time with one of my friends, Jane Foster. Speaking of which, I hadn't heard from Jane for a while now. The last time we had spoken, she had told me how she was looking for an intern to help her and Erik Selvig, an astrophysicist, with some new research project that they wanted to open together in New Mexico. I had been asked to help them but I had to turn the offer down, as I had been surrounded by missions that needed to be finished and new leads for me to follow. Perhaps after I find Bruce I could always ask for some time off to join her and Selvig and assist them with their research.

A sudden noise comes from my computer and fills the empty air, alerting me that I have a new email. I jump in surprise at the sudden noise but quickly recompose myself and rush over to the computer, practically throwing myself in the desk chair. I quickly refresh the page and sure enough, in my inbox is one new email from Director Fury. With a slight tremor in my hands as I'm that nervous, hopeful and excited at the same time, I open the email and read:

 _Hathaway,_

 _I received your email inquiring whether or not I knew of or could find the location of Bruce Banner for you. I do in fact know the current location of Banner and I you'll find it at the bottom of this email._

 _You should be warned however that you're not the only one interested in Banner's current whereabouts. He's on the tun for a reason and there are some parties that are still looking for him. They think he's powerful for whatever reason and would like for nothing more than to acquire said power. Its why I advise you that you keep your power usage to a minimum, especially if you come across a Thaddeus Ross._

 _I've also attached links to new reports and highly classified files that will explain what exactly happened to him. Read through them._

 _Rocinha, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. He works in the only bottle factory._

Grinning with satisfaction, I quickly write the location down and send a quick thank you back to the Director, before I then proceed to open each of the links and the files that Fury had sent me. Hoping that each one may offer me some clue as to what happened three years earlier that caused for Bruce's sudden disappearance, I flip my notebook to a new page and hold the pen tightly in my hand before I then start to read.

Three hours. It takes me three hours to read through every article and classified files and I have to say, that the content that I'm reading is pretty intense.

 _Explosion Incident at Culver University Laboratory._ Images of the wreck of the laboratory fill the screen. Newspapers about Green Monster and Green Sasquatch sightings from all over the USA. Laboratory equipment and information being uncovered from the site. Gamma radiation experiments. Request for usage of Stark Industries weapons which was approved. A manhunt, with multiple SWAT teams involved, travelling all over the world to generally secluded areas. Images of Bruce fill the screen. A woman known as Betty Ross kept popping up too- Bruce tried to get in contact with her.

Raising an eyebrow, I quickly scribble Betty Ross down, knowing there may be a possibility that I would need to contact her regarding information on Bruce.

The worst file though was the last one. This was the last classified file. Hesitantly I click on it and discover that its security footage. Security footage that could only be the explosion on Culver campus three years earlier.

In the laboratory are three men and a woman. The woman I can easily recognise as Betty Ross. She smiles through a glass screen and I see that she's smiling at Bruce. He's sitting in a white chair of some kind and he winks back at her before his chair slowly starts tip backwards and a smaller white machine passes over his eyes. There's a green flash and I see Betty tap her foot nervously when all of a sudden, Bruce's scream of agony fills the air and there's an explosion on the side of the glass where he is.

Smoke and shouting fill the screen for a moment, and I lose sight of Bruce when the glass suddenly smashes and a huge, green and bulky figure appears on the screen, roaring at Betty and the three men. The figure lifts the chair from the ground and throws it towards the men, though it knocks Betty with it too. The green figure towers over her when one of the men, who is badly injured flings himself in front of the green figure, covering Betty's unconscious form with his own. He screams at the figure who then tears from the room, creating a large hole in the wall and knocking the security camera off the wall too. The screen goes black and then the footage ends.  
I sit there silently in my chair, not taking my eyes off the computer. I feel myself shaking slightly.

 _Jesus-_ what the hell did I just watch? What happened to Betty and that man? What happened to Bruce? He had been in that room seconds before that green thing had appeared.

 _Oh my god..._

Realisation dawns on me at this last thought, causing me to weakly sink back in my chair. Bruce... _was_ the green figure. It had been a freak accident and Bruce turning into that... _thing._.. was the result.

So _that's_ why he was on the run. It was the obvious reason and it was a situation where it was too dangerous for him to be around anyone, including his family. And it would make sense as to why someone wanted Bruce for his power. He was powerful- may be a little _too_ powerful.

And I was going to track him down before Thaddeus Ross did.

I quickly rise from my chair and rush over to my bed where I bend down and reach my hand underneath it for my recently unpacked duffel bag, though it wasn't going to remain this way for long. I launch it onto the bed and unzip it before I then walk over to my wardrobe where I grab a pile full of clothes, as well as my SHIELD suit and walk back to the bed where I dump everything in my arms into the bag. I then rush to the bathroom and grab my toothbrush, hairbrush and other appropriate toiletries before walking back out to the bathroom to see a surprised Clint standing in the doorway, a shocked expression on his face as he looks at the duffel bag on my bed.

Before he can say anything, I keep walking forward and place my belongings into the duffel bag and inform him, "Fury did know where Bruce is. I'm going to find him now," I explain quietly, not having the courage to look him in the eye as I say this. "I'll only be gone for three days at most."

He snorts at this much to my surprise, though there wasn't any humour behind it. "Yeah OK. Last time you said that you were gone for three months."

"This time will be different," I reply, dropping down to my knees and reaching underneath the bed again, this time to pull out my weapons trunk. I unclasp the lid and open it up to see my familiar weapons stacked among one another in the trunk. Guns, throwing knives, bows and arrows (though good, I was nowhere near as good as Clint was. He tried to teach me and I could probably hit a target every now and again, though I much preferred my elemental powers) and more weaponry. I grab a gun and quickly load it before I add that in the duffel bag too.

"Whoa, I thought you were trying to find Bruce- why the hell do you need a gun?" Clint demands, stepping into the room now and snatching the gun from my bag.

I sigh, sensing an argument about to happen between the two of us. "Because I may need it," I reply lamely. "This isn't as safe as I thought it might be."

"What do you mean?" Clint demands as I continue to pack more clothes into the bag. I don't reply immediately, unsure of how exactly to explain Bruce's situation. When I don't immediately answer him, Clint steps closer to me and grabs my hand to prevent me from placing more clothes in the bag. "Lyd. What aren't you telling me?" he asks gently but firmly at the same time, his eyes piercing mine.

I sigh and push the bag further along my bed so that I can sink into the soft mattress. "Its sort of a long story," I mutter.

"Well, I've got time," Clint informs me, following me down to the bed. "Why isn't this as safe as you thought it was?"

I take a deep breath. "Bruce was right when he told you that it was too dangerous for him to be around his own family," I softly explain. "When he was a professor at Culver, he was involved with Gamma Radiation testing. I don't know the full story of it, but something went wrong. Something...big...happened to Bruce. He sort of...changed. What he changed into though is dangerous. I don't know if he's still like this but if he is..." I trail off, letting Clint piece the pieces of the puzzle together. "Now that I think about it though, I don't think a gun would be helpful in the least," I add with a dry laugh.

Clint is still confused after I explain this to him so I quickly load the security footage that Fury sent me up on to the computer screen and sit back on the bed watching Clint as he watches the footage from the explosion. He remains expressionless as he watches and once the footage comes to an end: he just sits still frozen in my desk chair, staring at the screen.

I open my mouth several times to say something but nothing really comes out- what exactly do I say to him now? _Hey, that was your cousin that turned into that green figure that was probably twice the size of us and went on a rampage, seriously injuring all those people?_

"You're right," Clint mutters suddenly, still not taking his eyes off the screen in front of him. "The gun wouldn't be enough to protect you."

"My powers would be though," I point out, turning back towards my duffel bag to zip it up. "Look, Clint, I know that you really preferred that I stayed home for this one, but I can't. Bruce is my family. Besides you, Laura and the kids, I don't have a lot of family," I softly remind him, turning to face him again to find that he's facing me with an unreadable expression plastered to his face. "And I know that I only just got back, but there's a manhunt for Bruce and I need to find him before other people do. The sooner I leave, the quicker I can find him and help him."

"Lydia, this is too dangerous," Clint says in a slow and quiet voice, shaking his head slightly. "You're gonna get yourself killed. Do you have any idea what you dying would do to Laura, the kids, Scott- _me_? I raised you for twelve years as if you were-" he breaks off, looking away from me with his lips pressed together, unable to finish his sentence.

I knew what he had been about to say, however.

 _As if you were my own daughter._

"I understand that," I whisper to him quietly. And I do. I've been a part of this family since the moment the twelve-year-old version of me stepped through that farmhouse door downstairs. Strong bonds were formed and I had in a way, got the family that I had always dreamed of as a child. The effect on them would be the same on me if one of them died too. But I needed to do this. I physically and mentally felt like it was my responsibility to help Bruce. I couldn't explain exactly why, but I trusted my gut feelings. And right now, they were telling me to go find Bruce.

"Its the exact same for me too Clint if one of you died as well," I inform him in a firm voice, sinking back onto the bed once more. "You and Laura have been so good to me all these years and I am grateful for that. But this-this is no different to a SHIELD mission. A dangerous mission and you and I both have done dangerous missions in the past. We both know the risk. And I know the risk of this too- but I have to try," I finish in a firm voice.

We sit in comfortable silence for the next three minutes, as I wait for Clint to say something about what I just told him. Agree with me, argue back at me- anything. I never really expected him to go into full hibernation mode, where he would just sit there and think to himself, doing nothing. Whatever he says though, in the end, I'm going. Legally, he couldn't stop me. He could, of course, try to physically stop me, but I would have the upper hand in the fight with my powers- and he knows it too.

"You'll need your passport kiddo," he murmurs, turning back to face me. "Though I probably wouldn't take the gun with you on the aeroplane. I think you should leave that here. Would have a hard time explaining to airline security anyhow."

Grinning, I leap up and rush over to him and throw my arms around him, catching him off guard. It takes a moment for him to recover, but he then wraps his arms around me too and I feel him quietly laughing.

"You're the best Uncle Clint!" I inform him, pulling back to give him a peck on the cheek before hurrying back to my bag. "I promise to call you once I've landed and once I've found Bruce. I'll only be gone for a week-"

"A week huh? I thought it was only three days," Clint says, his brows raised.  
"Six days."

"Pushing your luck kiddo."

"Five and a half?"

"Nice try."

"C'mon Clint, its only five days!"

"You said three originally."

"Well, I meant five."

"Three."

"Five."

"Three."

"Five."

"Three."

"Five."

"Three."

"Five- I can do this all day you know."

Clint rolls his eyes at this. "Good luck with that Hathaway. You're the most impatient person I know."

"Gee, I wonder who I get that from Barton?" I ask sarcastically, giving him a knowing look.

"Who knows," he replies before turning around to walk out of my room. "You better hurry if you want to catch the next flight to Brazil-"

"Plane rides don't count as days right?" I ask innocently, a smirk creeping on to my face.

Clint grumbles something unintelligible before shaking his head and turning around to throw me a lopsided grin before walking out of the door to let me finish my packing.

With a slight pang to my heart, I realise that I won't get a chance to say goodbye to Laura and the kids if I leave straight away. The hardest part about missions was leaving your family behind, sometimes without a proper goodbye. In reality, no SHIELD agent ever knows for sure that they will return from their missions- some aren't willing to take the risk and prefer to sit behind a desk and work from the sidelines. I could have easily chosen that path, but Fury saw potential in me and personally advised me to work in the field.

I sling the duffel bag over my shoulder and walk over to my desk to grab a piece of paper and pen to write a little goodbye note to Laura, Lila and Cooper. I know that a note isn't the same thing, but it's the best goodbye that I have now. I quickly disperse the note on the kitchen bench once I reach downstairs before I walk out to the car where Clint is waiting for me. At my surprised expression, he smirks.

"What? Did you really expect me to not drive ya to the airport?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Should've seen it coming," I say, making him smirk even wider as I get into the car.

* * *

The only bottle factory in Rocinha looms in front of me from where I stand from across the street. Its a big, white, run-down building with various amounts of glass in windows missing and from what I can tell, no one seems to be inside. I shuffle my weight on my other foot and stifle a yawn as I continue to look at the building. It had been the third plane ride for me in a matter of three days, so I was completely jet lagged. Shaking my head slightly and pushing the sunglasses back into position, I slowly walk towards the factory, trying to avoid bumping into people and getting hit by cyclists as I walk. Reaching the door, I slowly push it open, letting it fall shut behind me.

I find myself standing in an abandoned locker room, with blue lockers and dirty cream walls. The floor needs a good sweep and the majority of the lockers are still halfway open, with clothes hanging out of the side of them. There's an odour of sweat hanging in the air and I find myself instantly gagging, the smell strong enough to cause my blue eyes to water.

"Ey!" I hear a low, masculine cry to my left. At the sound, I turn to see a short man with greying hair and crinkled eyes glaring at me. I assume he's in charge of the factory, as he's wearing an old but clean and blue suit. His frown makes his grey beard appear larger than it is too.

"We closed two, hours ago," he says in English. "You must leave."

I stand my ground and hold up in hand. "Easy. I was just looking for a cousin of mine. Bruce Banner?"

The man gives me a confused look and it only just crosses my mind that Bruce is probably going under a different identity. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a photo of Bruce that I printed off the Culver University home web page. I hold it out to the man, who grabs glasses from his pocket before he places them on and peers closely at the photo.

"He's my _primo_ ," I say cousin in Portuguese. " _Meu primo,_ um... _eu estou olhando para o meu primo_ \- I'm looking for my cousin."

The man suddenly cracks into a big grin. "Yas! Yas, he is the best worker here!" He exclaims happily to me, handing me back the photo of Bruce. "He lives..." he then trails off in a torrent of Portuguese, leaving me staring at him cluelessly.

"Eh, _desacelere_!" I say, praying inwardly that that was the correct saying for 'slow down'. "I don't speak Portuguese that well. _Desacelere, por favour."_

After what seems like an hour but in reality was only a few moments, I am finally able to understand what the man is saying and I head off in the direction that he told me to walk in. The trip is mostly uphill with many people crowding the streets, talking among themselves, trading goods of one another or children playing together. At one point a soccer ball comes flying towards my head and I use my wind powers just in time to send it back the way it came- straight into the goal. The kids cheer and crowd me, holding out there hands for high fives which I return, grinning down at them. They ask me to come and play with them, though I tell them I can't. They slowly disperse away from me, leaving the pathway clear again so that I can continue my journey. Finally, after three hours of walking, I finally reach Bruce's doorstep.

I take three deep breaths to calm my racing heart before I then knock on the wooden door three times and then patiently wait for whoever is on the other side to open it up. Hopefully, that person is Bruce.

A million thoughts fill my head as I wait for the door to be opened: What was he like? Did he remember my Mom? Would he like to meet Clint? What was he like? Would I like him? Would he like me? Did- did he know who my father was? The questions go on and on forever in my head until the door opens up a crack and I see a pair of dark brown eyes peek through the crack at me, narrowing at the sight of me.

"Who are you?" he asks warily. "What do you want?" he adds, still not daring to open the door the full way.

I clear my throat. "Are- are you Bruce Banner?" I ask hesitantly.

"Sorry, I don't know a Bruce Banner," the man says quickly before attempting to shut the door in my face. In response, quickly raise my hand and splay it out, causing the door to swing backwards, almost knocking the man over. To my delight it is Bruce. And he doesn't look exactly like he does in the photo I quickly realise. He's quite tall, with dark hair that needs some cutting and he's in desperate need of a shave. He's wearing loose brown pants and a red shirt and his face is pale as I lower my hand.

"I'm Stacey's daughter," bursts from my lips and I see surprise light up his face. I take a deep breath. "Do you remember her? She came looking for you almost twenty-two years ago?"

Bruce slowly raises himself to his feet, being as slow and as cautious as possible, as if he's worried that I'll suddenly attack him. "Yeah, I remember," he says so quietly, I almost don't hear him say it.

"Then you know of our...connection," I say lamely. "Distant cousins. Of some sort..."

"How- how did you find me?" he asks nervously.

"It's sort of a long story, but I can assure you, I'm not in anyway associated with Thaddeus Ross-"

His face pales at this, his brown eyes widening in what I assume is fear. "Wait, you know about Ross?" he asks sharply.

I nod my head. "I know almost everything...including the lab accident." I bite my tongue as Bruce goes even paler, in too much shock to reply to what I just said. "Do you mind if I come in?" I ask quietly. "I just got off a plane and I'm pretty tired so-"

There's a moment of hesitance. But eventually, he gives a small nod of his head."Sure," He says, though he says it still in a wary tone. He does, however, hold open the door for me, allowing access to his small house."How do you know everything?"

"Well, I guess it started when I read my Mom's diary."


	4. Chapter 3: Flight and Fight

One thing that I quickly discovered about Bruce was that he was a very patient man. In the past two hours that I've spent explaining to him how I found him, he has been nothing but still and quiet, allowing me to have the chance to explain myself. If our roles had been reversed and it was me who had to endure listening to someone talk non-stop for as long as I had, I would have easily grown agitated and felt the need to move.

But not Bruce. He had just sat there quietly, paying attention to every single one of my words.

By the time that the last word has left my mouth, the sun has started to set over Rocinha. The two of us were sitting in his tiny living room across from one another in silence. Never being a fan for long and awkward silences, I shift uncomfortably in the hard chair that I was sitting in, waiting for him to finally say something, tapping my foot nervously against the ground beneath my feet. The movement causes for a barely audible tapping noise to echo throughout the small room, though it's so quiet and subtle that it goes unnoticed by Bruce across from me.

"So why did you come here, Lydia?" He finally asks in a quiet, serious tone.

I'm surprised to see a look of sadness on his face as he spoke, his expression worn and tired. This hadn't been the reaction that I was hoping for. I had been hoping that he would at least be somewhat _pleased_ that I found him, and that he knew that I had travelled all this way so that I could meet and learn more about him: we were family after all. I wasn't expecting the sad looks, serious tone and lack of enthusiasm.

"I guess I just came here to meet you. Maybe even bring you back to meet Clint-"

"I can't go back," Bruce quickly interrupts me, shaking his head as he did so. "It's too dangerous for them."

"Because of what went wrong in the experiment?" I asked, cursing myself silently when I see him flinch at my words. Even though it had been three years ago, talking about the experiment was clearly something that he wasn't comfortable yet. While not wanting to upset him, my desire to finally get some answers wins out as I press gently, "What exactly did happen that day Bruce? Why did you run? And please don't tell me either that nothing happened because I've seen the footage. I know that something happened that day...exactly what I'm not sure but I know that it changed you," I trail off softly. "I need to know. I need to understand."

He takes a deep breath and briefly closes his warm eyes before opening them once more, staring directly at me. "Three years ago I was a professor at Culver University when my former... _friend,_ Betty Ross came to me with her father to talk about a new experiment that he wanted her and I too work on," He starts to explain.

"Wait..." I interrupt, my eyes scrunching up as I piece together a small part of the puzzle that I hadn't put together until just now. "Ross...as in Thaddeus Ross?"

Bruce nods, confirming my suspicion. "Betty is his daughter. The experiment was to see if humans could become immune to gamma radiation. After months and months of research and long work hours, we finally decided to test our work. Ross wanted a soldier from the military to undergo it but I protested against the idea."

"Why not have the guy from the military be tested on instead?"

"You have to remember that it was quite a dangerous experiment, Lydia," Bruce reminds me pointedly. "If it went wrong, well... you've seen the consequences of it. I wanted it to be me. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if the research proved irrelevant and miscalculated and ended up killing someone. So we went into the lab, the equipment all set up and I got into that chair and when I was exposed to the gamma radiation, the test failed. It was too much exposure and I should have died. But I didn't. Instead, I now turn into this... _thing_...whenever my pulse reaches two hundred beats a minute or over-"

He cuts off as a small beeping sound suddenly fills the room. I look around curiously to find the source of the noise, my eyes eventually landing on a small watch clasped tightly around his wrist. It takes me a little longer to figure out that it was a heart monitor rather than a watch.

The beeping eventually slows down as Bruce inhales slow, deep breaths until the beeping disappears altogether. I keep my eyes trained on the monitor as he continues a little breathlessly, "Once I turned back to my normal self, I went to the hospital to see Betty. I hurt her pretty bad- it's something that still haunts me to this day. I went in to see her, and she was just laying on the bed, all broken and cut when Ross came in. He told me to leave, as I was too dangerous to be around Betty any more. I left but came back later that night only to hear Ross talking to a small group of soldiers. He wanted to use whatever the gamma radiation did to me as a weapon of mass destruction. So, I left to keep him away from me and...the other guy."

One of my brows quirk up questioningly at this, and I can't help but shoot him a bemused look. "The other guy being the green thing you turn in?"

"Yes."

"Just clarifying. Have you tried searching for a cure?"

"Since the day I left."

"And judging by the fact that you're still in hiding, your attempts in finding a cure haven't been some of success," I conclude, my face falling as I spoke.

I watch as his face mirrors mine and he frowns as well. "No. I actually just failed at an attempt before you showed up," he explains, nodding towards the remains of what would have once been a beautiful flower on the table across the room, which was surrounded by lab equipment as well. How he had managed to get his hands on such equipment when he was living constantly on the move I didn't know, though I don't get the chance to ask him as he further continues, "An acquaintance of mine thought it would work."

I tear my eyes of the broken flower remains to lock eyes with Bruce again. "Acquaintance?" I ask, eyebrows raised.

"He knows of my condition," Bruce replies. "He's been helping me to try and find a cure..."

"Is he here in Brazil?"

Bruce shakes his head much to my confusion. "No, well, at least I don't think so. I've never actually...met him..."

I nod my head, realising what he meant by this. "A cyber friend then."

"Something like that."

We then lapse into silence again, both of us tearing our eyes away from one another once more. Bruce seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, similar to the way that I was. While I appeared to be calmed and collected on the outside, I was anything but inside my head. I had a million different thoughts and questions that I wanted to voice out loud, though there was a part of me that was too afraid to do so.

So far every between us seemed to be going well...sort of. While any talk between the two of us had revolved around the fact that he turned into a raging creature whenever his pulse got to high, we seemed to be getting along well with one another. But there was so much more that needed to be said. Not just about his situation, but about the possibility of coming home to meet his other family or agreeing to stay in touch with one another if he wasn't comfortable doing so yet.

"You need to leave Lydia," Bruce suddenly declares a little blatantly.

 _"What?"_ I ask, dumbstruck, having not expected him to say this in the slightest.

Bruce just shakes his head much to my dismay. "There's nothing here for you, except me: and I'm a threat. As long as I'm around you, you will always be in constant danger. All it takes is for me to get angry for just a split second and then I go away and the other guy replaces me."

I shake my own had, however, not liking the direction that this conversation had taken. "But- haven't you got that under control?" I ask hopefully, nodding towards his heart monitor.

"I like to think so, but in reality, no I haven't," Bruce replies mournfully.

I for one, am not sold on this, however.

"You can't just expect me to leave now," I exclaim, my voice significantly louder than it had been moments before. "I literally just found you! And you don't have to worry about hurting me, I am perfectly capable of protecting myself-"

"The other guy can't be hurt or killed," Bruce interrupts firmly, though there wasn't any bite to his tone. "I've had close calls with the government and they've attempted at both- the Hulk is indestructible-"

"The _what_?"

To my surprise, Bruce blushes slightly. "Its what I call the other guy..." he explains sheepishly.

"The Hulk sort of suits it," I say, my mind thinking back to the lab security footage that I watched, the large, green frame of the 'Hulk' flashing before my eyes. Determined to win this argument, however, I reply back just as firmly, "Anyway, I can't leave right now. The next plane out of here isn't until late tomorrow."

"It's safer for you to be at a hotel then."

"You tell me where the nearest and safest hotel in this city is then."

He remains silent at that.

 _Check and mate._

"Look, Bruce, I came here to meet you and possibly even bring you back. Obviously, you're not wanting to come back with me-that much is pretty clear- so I won't force you too. But I didn't come all this way out here for nothing. We're distant cousins and the least we could do is try to get to know one another before I leave. Would you possibly at least let me stay the night?"

I inhale both sharply and deeply after finishing my quick ramble, trying to get my breathing back under control once more. Watching Bruce carefully, I see that he remains silent as he takes what I said in, his brows furrowed slightly together as he thought. Hopefully, I haven't overstepped any boundaries by what I had just asked, though I was too afraid that he would send me away and that I would never get the chance to speak to him again. I knew for a fact that if I left, he would be gone in an instant. I had essentially blown his cover and I gathered that he wasn't the type of person to take risks. Keeping on the move and relocating where no one else knew he was Bruce Banner would be the smart thing to do.

This could be my one and only chance to talk to him and attempt to properly get to know him better before he disappeared again.

I have to restrain from making a small noise of delight when he lets out a sigh of defeat, though I can't fight the grin that spreads across my face at the sound. "I hope you like chilli," He mumbles, rubbing a hand over his tired face. "That's mostly what I eat around here."

"Lucky for you, I happen to love Chilli," I inform him sweetly, watching as his face ever so slightly lights up with amusement at this.

"Chilli it is then."

* * *

"So how is Stacey?" Bruce asks me from where he sits across the table, absent-mindedly swirling his spoon in the bowl of chilli in front of him.

Though it had taken another two hours for us to talk some more and finally find the motivation to cook dinner, any discussion surrounding my mother hadn't been spoken. I knew that it was only a matter time before he asked about her, yet that still didn't stop the way that my stomach churned with unease about the prospect of having to talk about the woman who had kept so many secrets from me and had ignored me more than she should have.

Plus, I didn't have the heart to tell him that she had died.

I knew that there was no avoiding this, however. He was eventually going to find out the truth, and she knew that it was better to tell him now rather than concealing the truth from him any longer.

Even if it was the last thing that I wanted to do.

"She's dead," I reply quietly before I then blow on the chilli that is on my spoon to cool it down before I place it in my mouth, not having the courage to look him directly in the eye as I said this.

The small gasp of surprise that escapes past his lips has me glancing up at him, however, seeing the remorse and regret flash across his face. His brown eyes stared down at the food in front of him, his mouth still parted in shock, his hand still frozen in the air, half raised to his mouth with his fingers gripping the spoon tightly.

My heart sinks at the sight, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach despite the fact that I had been enjoying the delicious chilli just moments before. Grief was something that I had been surrounded by for most of my life. Being a SHIELD agent, witnessing or experiencing grief was ultimately inevitable. Too many times had I witnessed my fellow agents being told the heart-wrenching news that a loved one wasn't going to be coming home or that they had been lost in a mission. There were times where I had experienced it myself, having lost a few friends here and there to the cause. It was raw and painful and you'd think that after all this time that I would be used to it.

But looking at Bruce now, I knew that that was the furthermost from the truth.

"I'm sorry," I say quietly, the words slipping out as easy as breathing.

He glances up at this, shooting me look of surprise. " _You're s_ orry _?_ " He asks, the horror clear to detect in his ton, much to my bewilderment. "You shouldn't be the one who is sorry-that should be _me_. She was _your_ mother after all."

I don't have it in me to tell him the truth. That my Aunt waiting back at home for me was more of my mother than my actual one had ever been. So instead, I only offer him a look full of sympathy. "You lost her as well," I reply quietly. "I've..I've had some time to get used to her being gone."

 _Liar._

Hesitance flashes momentarily across his face before he then asks tentatively, "How...how, uh, did she die? If you don't mind me asking."

"Remember how I told you about how I work for an intelligence agency known as SHIELD?" I ask him. Though revealing the fact that I worked for the secret intelligence information would generally be frowned upon, it didn't matter that I had told Bruce. He had informed me before I even had the chance to tell him that he knew what it was, having crossed paths with SHIELD in the past. When he nods his head at my words, I add, "Well, Mom worked for them too. When I was twelve years old, she went on a mission in Russia and was killed in action. Bullet to the head."

Bruce ever so slightly flinches at this. "It's a shame- I would've liked to get to know her better under different circumstances," he informs me regretfully. "It was difficult to keep in contact with her after she first found me, due to her constantly working."

 _Trust me, I know how you feel._

"How _did_ your first meeting with her go?"

The regret is replaced by a warmth on his face, a ghost of a small smile dancing over his lips. "It was unexpected. She came to my home and introduced herself and the connection between the two of us, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. She said also told me that she was a month into her pregnancy," he informs me, both too my surprise and delight. "We kept in touch sometimes over the years until she stopped replying at one point. I guess I know why now..."

"She didn't happen to mention who my father was, did she?" I ask, trying to sound not as eager and as hopeful for an answer as I felt.

My hopes are diminished completely, however, when Bruce quickly shakes his head. "No. I didn't feel inclined to ask either."

I have to restrain from sagging in defeat at this, my heart sinking at his words. Bruce had been my last resort for possibly discovering the identity of my father. With my mother not having told anyone else, I had put too much faith on the chance that she could have possibly confided with her cousin. It seems, however, that my faith was misjudged.

I push these thoughts aside, however, telling myself to stay focused on the positive: I had a cousin. Though a distant one, a cousin all the same. Rather than worrying about a father that I couldn't find, I should focus on getting to know Bruce better.

"Can I ask you a question?" Bruce asks, snapping me from my thoughts. When I nod my head at this, he continues,

"When I tried to lock you out earlier-sorry about that by the way- you flung the door open, but I noticed that you didn't even touch it. You, quite literally, held your hand up and it was as if a huge gust of wind had pushed the door open..."

I can't contain the small smirk that spreads across my lips at this. "What if I told you that that is exactly what happened?"

"I would say that it's impossible but then again, I turn into a green, rage monster whenever my heart beats to fast so...any thing's possible I guess."

Swallowing another mouthful of chilli, I quickly wipe my mouth before explaining, "I have some abilities that allow me to control the elements as well as some other forces... Earth, plants, fire, air, water, ice, electricity, light, weather, the atmosphere-"

"How is that even possible?"

 _It's best not to move, subject 207. It won't do you any good._

 _Aching, throbbing, stinging,_ _ **pain-**_

 _'Please stop-'_

 _My name...is Lydia Hathaway_

 _Screams echoing off the walls-_

 _Again._

The sound of the spoon slipping from my fingers and landing with a clatter on the table beside me is enough to startle me out of my thoughts. Blinking my eyes rapidly to get a bearing on my surroundings, my hands instinctively fling out to grasp at the edge of the table, in an attempt to ground myself.

 _You're safe, you're safe,_ I silently tell myself, the words ringing in my mind like a chorus of bells. _You're not there, you're here_ -

"Are you alright?" Bruce pipes up, the concern easy to hear in his voice.

Nodding my head ever so slightly, I inhale a deep breath as silent as possible before then releasing my grip from the table, my fingers stiff from the physical exertion of digging them into the edge. Flexing them, I inform him stonily, "About two years ago, I was captured and forced to undergo human experiments by a group of scientists. They also injected me with some sort of chemical and about a year later, I could control these things."

Looking up at him, I watch as curiosity sparks in his dark brown eyes. "What was the chemical?"

"I don't know. I don't even know the people who did this to me. I've been trying to track them down for a couple of months but to no avail."

"What were the experiments?"

My tongue darts out to lick at my lips nervously, his words causing my stomach to become a flurry of nerves. Attempting to block out any more memories of my time of captivity that threatened to swim to the surface of my mind, I reply quietly, "I'd rather not talk about it sorry..."

It's not that I don't want to tell Bruce what happened during my ten months of captivity. It's just, I've spent the last year trying my hardest to not think about the tortures that were inflicted on me. I still get nightmares some nights from my memories, but generally, whenever I think about the experiments, it's basically like I relive them inside my mind. Sometimes I've noticed too, that when I wake up from a nightmare or finish thinking or talking about those ten months, the temperature in the room has changed, electricity cracks in my hand and any living plant that is anywhere close to me shrivels up and dies.

When I got too emotional, my powers somewhat spiralled out of control.

And that alone terrified me.

"I didn't mean to be nosy," Bruce apologies quickly.

"You didn't do anything wrong. It was just a long time ago- not really necessary to bring up."

"Understandable," Bruce nods. "If you don't mind me asking though, how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-one."

"How old were you when you were captured?"

"Nineteen."

Before Bruce gets the chance to respond, a loud scratching noise comes from the door causing me to jump in fright and whirl around in our seats towards the sound. Instinctively, I raise a hand up and spread my fingers out in front of me, using the wind components of my abilities to read the air currents on the other side of the door. I feel a small object shift in the air, but before I can say anything to Bruce, he pulls himself to his feet and walks across the room towards the wooden door. Twisting the handle, he pulls the door back to reveal a small and shaggy dog sitting on the threshold of his house.

"Hey buddy," Bruce greets gently, giving the dog a pat on the head. He looks up and chuckles at the suspicious expression that was still glued to my face. "Don't worry. He won't bite."

"Sorry," I mutter, silently scolding my paranoid self. "I was jumpy because of the noise he made. Occupational habit, I guess.

"Being wary of everything and everyone? Trust me, I know the feeling."

"What's his name?" I ask as the dog slowly walks over to me, tail wagging as I bend down to give it a pat on the head.

"I don't know. He's a stray- I sort of took him under my wing."

"He's like your friend," I conclude, not taking my eyes off the dog. "It must be terrible and lonely, being on the run."

"You have no idea," Bruce mutters, though he does so more to himself than me.

* * *

A common misconception with sleep-onset insomnia is that every person who suffers from it are forced to endure it _every single_ night. Though this was true for some people, for others it wasn't. Some only endured it three times a two or three times a week, rather than spending every night laying in bed attempting to fall asleep. Though plagued with it for over a year now, there were times where I had gotten moments or lengths of a couple days of peaceful nights, given into sleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

Evidently, however, this was _not_ the case tonight.

I roll over once again on Bruce's worn but surprisingly comfortable couch, attempting to find a comfortable position once more. For the past two hours, I had laid here quietly, attempting to fall asleep while Bruce slept peacefully in his bed in the next room. The city was still as loud as ever though, with car horns, music and people laughing floating up and through the cracks in Bruce's window.

Whether or not it was the loud noises being the reason that I couldn't fall asleep or the fact that I was still too alert and wired after the events of today, I didn't know. All I did know, was that I was bloody tired and that I couldn't fall asleep.

Upon hearing Bruce's dog let out a small whine where it slept on the bed at Bruce's feet, I throw the thin blanket off my body and pull myself to my feet, silently treading over to Bruce's small kitchen so that I could pour myself a small glass of water. Having grabbed my phone from beside the couch before getting up, I scroll through my messages as I sip from my water. After reading some that Clint and Laura had sent me, making sure that I was safe and that I was enjoying my time with Bruce, my eyes land on a new message that had been sent half an hour ago: from none other than Nick Fury. When my eyes glance over the message, I can't help but gasp and drop the glass in both apprehension and shock:

 _Hathaway- your position has been compromised. Ross is coming for Banner now._

 _Shit._

"Bruce," I call out frantically, rushing to his room where he's still sound asleep. I quickly lean over him and reach down to shake him, watching as he wakes up almost instantly after I do so.

He blinks his sleepy eyes open further, shooting me a puzzled glance when he sees that it was me leaning over the top of him. "Lydia?" He asks groggily, not noticing the frantic state that I was in. "What-?"

"Ross is in the city," I quickly blurt out, knowing that there was no way that I could sugar coat the news to him. Time was of the essence here, and we were quickly running out of it. "We need to get you out of here, now!"

I haven't even finished the first sentence when he throws the covers off himself and bolts right up and pushes past me. "Grab your things- we need to leave in five minutes."

I don't even hesitate as I fling my hand out and create a huge and powerful enough gust of wind that my bad flies through the air towards me from across the room. I catch it with ease and quickly sprint to the bathroom, tearing my pyjamas off me and instead put on more suitable clothes. For good measure, I also place a baseball cap on my head before throwing the clothes I had just peeled off into my bag once more. Hurrying out, I am met with the sight of Bruce (no longer wearing his pyjamas) shoving as many things as he could into his backpack, muttering to himself quietly as he did so.

This sight causes my heart to sink. Shit. Why on earth did Ross have to find Bruce now? I had literally just found him and-

 _Oh, God._

Had Ross found because of me?

Had my search for Bruce led Ross straight to him?

Hoping immensely that this wasn't true, I go to move towards Bruce when I hear it: the small, barely audible sound of the tiniest thump against the door.

Knowing that there was no possible chance that it was Bruce's dog on the other side of the door as he was still sound asleep in Bruce's room, I quickly reach up and splay my hands to read the air currents like I had earlier tonight. To my absolute horror, I sense seven large men on the other side, two of them pressing their hands against the door as if they were trying to stick something there.

Unease settles over me at this and I turn to Bruce to warn him of it, when I see him standing at the kitchen sink, tying a long piece of rope around the tap. The window above the sink was open, and I watch as he throws the said rope out the window. Grunting as he climbs up onto the bench with his backpack tied firmly around his shoulders, he looks up to lock gaze with me. "We're gonna climb out of here," He murmurs. "Follow straight after me."

"There's no time," I mutter to myself, my hand still splayed. I feel a shift in the air currents as the two men at the door back away. Suddenly realising too late that they intended on blowing the door down, I swing my own bag over shoulders and quickly rush towards a now confused Bruce. He opens his mouth to say something though I immediately cut him off as I propel myself through the air and towards Bruce, pushing the two of us straight out the window.

Bruce's yell of surprise gets drowned out by the sound of the door being blown off its hinges.

Bruce accidentally elbows me in the face as we fall, causing me to lose my concentration as I fly down. Yelping as his limb makes contact, I manage to keep my grip as him as we fly through an open window three floors below us, landing in a heap on the floor.

Rolling away from Bruce, I groan in pain and grip my now throbbing cheek, dimly aware of Bruce apologising profoundly next to me when I hear a woman suddenly gasp.

Bruce and I simultaneously look up and we see a young Brazilian woman gazing down at us, her eyes wide with disbelief. Her hair hung damply at the base of her neck and droplets of water glistened on her skin, indicating to me that she had just had a shower. At the sight of Bruce and I gaping up at her, she lets loose a torrent of Portuguese, speaking far too rapidly for me to be able to understand her. Bruce suddenly lurches up and clasps a hand over her mouth, whispering urgently to her in Portuguese. After a moment, the woman stops speaking and nods, the action causing for Bruce to slowly remove his hand from the woman's mouth.

The three of us freeze, as we hear guns being fired echo out from Bruce's small house above us and the sound of men yelling among themselves. It then suddenly goes quiet and I hold my breath as I hear a particular man yell from above us, "Target is on the ground!"

"Can you fly us out of here?" Bruce whispers quietly to me.

I shake my head. "Too noticeable. They would be able to track us. The best option sadly is to go on foot," I whisper back. "I probably can when we get out of the city though."

He nods, understatement in his eyes. He then turns to mutter something softly to the woman before he then walks over to the door, with me hot on his heels. He steps to the side and allows me to open the door slightly, just wide enough so that I can watch the soldiers quickly descend the steps outside Bruce's house, and run east towards the outskirts of the city.

Bruce's dog suddenly emerges from his house and, upon spotting me peering at it in the doorway, quickly bounds down towards us and pushes past the door as I hold it open once I'm sure the soldiers have disappeared. "C'mon," I say to Bruce, tugging him slightly by his shoulder. "We'll head west, away from them."

Bruce pauses though to give the woman a kiss on the cheek and mutters a small 'thank you,' and giving his dog a final pat on the head before he hurries out and into the open air.

 _"Obrigado!_ " I call out in thanks to the woman before I quickly hurry after him, the two of us heading in the completely opposite direction that the soldiers had disappeared in. As we do so, I recommend to Bruce, "Put your hood on," hoping that this would help conceal his face somewhat.

We continue to jog through the streets, dodging people and small motorbikes as we do so. I let Bruce lead the way, as I'm unfamiliar with this side of the city while also keeping an eye out for any of the soldiers that we had seen before, knowing perfectly well that there was a chance that they could have doubled back.

I look back when I hear a smash behind me and thinking that it could be the men, I feel electricity crack in my hand. To my relief, however, it's just someone knocking over a crate of coke bottles. I sigh and turn my head back around as I continue to walk, only to be met by Bruce's back. Upon hitting him, he makes a startled noise and stumbles forward slightly.

Shooting him a confused look, I kill the electricity in my hands and move to stand beside him. "Why'd you stop?"

"Because they found us," Bruce whispers, causing my heart to skip a beat and for me to turn and see what he's looking. I feel my eyes widen as they land on a middle-aged, blonde soldier, who had clearly seen us and begun to slowly raise one of his guns.

"Run!" I say to Bruce and he doesn't need telling twice. Before the soldier even has time to react, we both turn to the left and run as fast as we can down the steep slope of the street, with the soldiers yelling and following straight after us.

Due to the streets being so narrow, we run single file and I let Bruce run ahead of me. Occasionally I have to fling my hand forward and create huge casts of wind strong enough to quickly move people ahead of us out of our path to ensure that we don't run into them and they slow us down. Quick glances over my shoulder inform me that though the soldiers were managing to keep up with us, they weren't close to catching up with us just yet. I knew that we weren't going to be able to lose them by speed, however: we needed to try something else.

Bruce takes a sharp left ahead of me and I quickly follow behind him. As I hurry around the corner, I am met with the sight of the kids who had been playing soccer earlier in the day, still at it even though it was late at night. When they see me, they yell greetings and ask me to come and play with them but only push past them, pointing back towards the street that Bruce and I had just come from. " _Antigi-los com a bola por favor!_ Hit them with the ball!" I yell.

Just before I turn around another corner after Bruce, one of the soldier's turn around the corner that Bruce and I had just come from. To both my surprise and delight, one of the kids does, in fact, throw a ball at the man, causing him to curse and drop to the ground on impact. Chuckling at this and sending a final wave to the laughing children, I turn around and continue forward after Bruce.

The street that we're currently running down is long and while I was only at the start of it, Bruce was almost at the final corner. People ahead of me manage to see me rushing towards them and quickly jump out of the way and gasp in surprise, though I pay them little attention: my goal at the moment was to catch up with Bruce. I-

My body slams into something hard and I go flying through the air, hearing a pained grunt from beside me as I fall down. I can't help but curse as my body hits the ground hard, and upon glancing through my messy locks, I see that the thing that I had run into was a person. Or a man, to be specific.

Rolling onto my stomach, I groan as pain shoots through my body though I watch as the man turns and looks up at me, a harsh glare on his face. Though threatening, the glare does little to intimidate me as I suddenly find myself captivated by the man's shining, blue eyes.

He doesn't say anything but instead continues to glare at me, his shoulder-length brown hair falling from the loose bun at the base of his neck. He reaches up to push the loose strands from his face and I manage to catch a flash of metal as he does this. "Watch where you're going," He snaps angrily, starting to push himself up and off the ground.

"Sorry!" I exclaim, doing the same when I see the middle-aged soldier turn round the corner as the single word passes my lips. I feel my mouth part in horror, something that doesn't go unnoticed by the man as the anger in his face fades slightly and is instead replaced with curiosity. Knowing that the soldier was just seconds away from catching up to me, I shoot the man one final look and apologise once more, before turning around and taking off in a sprint.

With Bruce no longer in my sight, panic starts to eat it's way at me though I tell myself to stay calm: he couldn't have gotten that far. With my arms pumping by my side as I ran, I quickly raise them to create a huge gust of wind and send a pile of crates and boxes backwards and into the unsuspecting soldier, knowing that it would slow him down slightly and give me more time to move ahead.

As I round yet another corner, I see Bruce halfway up the street and quickly catch up to him, listening to him pant slightly as we move. "How...far away...are they?" he asks as we continue forward.

"Not far enough- keep going!" I reply, willing my legs to go faster.

We turn the corner and are met with rows of clotheslines that have bed sheets hanging from them. We push past them frantically and I see Bruce's cap fall off. Dammit, he'll be more recognisable now if more soldiers show up.

We need to get out of the city. _Now._

Maybe I could fly us out- but then they could use their satellites to track us down more easily than if we went on foot. What we need to do is go to the outskirts and lose them in the forest- that's our best option. I could use the trees as cover if I did decide to fly us out. I turn to suggest this to Bruce when suddenly the clotheslines disappear and we are met with open air. I scream as my foot lands on nothing and we fall.

On instinct, I grab a flailing Bruce by his collar and fly us up back on to the roof of the house across the street. We land steadily and Bruce throws me an appreciative and shocked look before we hear a scream behind us. We whirl and see that a soldier made the same mistake that we did- only he can't fly like me and he falls, landing with a crash in the street below.

I notice that the gap between the two buildings isn't that far though, which means if the next soldier is slow enough, he might make the jump. "C'mon!" I yell grabbing Bruce around his wrist to drag him along.

Roof along roof along roof we run, trying to do so as lightly as possible so that we don't fall through and land in the rooms below. I look back over my shoulder and too my dismay, another soldier is following us and is slowly catching up to us.

"Lydia jump!" Bruce yells, catching my attention. I turn around to see him jump over the edge of a small balcony as he would for a hurdle, and I have just enough time to lift my legs up and do the same. Another large gap between buildings looms in front of us and once again, I grab Bruce by his collar and lift us off the ground, flying us fast through the air. The soldier will most definitely not make the jump without falling to his death. I look back just in time to see him raise his gun and he fires it.

As quick as lighting, I wave my hand and watch as the tranquilliser hits an invisible fall of air in front of me and falls harmlessly to the ground. The soldier stares at me, clearly confused at this but I don't give him a second glance as I turn around and run after Bruce.

We run for a continuous five minutes without having any more confrontations with soldiers. We enter a small, packed square where to my horror, Bruce collapses against a large crate. I'm about to ask him if he's OK when I hear it- the sound of his watch, beeping like crazy, signalling us that his quickening pulse was close to reaching over two hundred beats a minute.

"No. No no no not here!" Bruce exclaims breathlessly, squeezing his eyes shut and inhaling deep and fast breaths.

"Bruce, breathe and put your hands on your head," I tell him, blocking him from the view of nearby pedestrians. "It'll help you to breathe."

He nods and complies and after what seems likes forever, the beeping subsides. Bruce sighs in relief and crashes back against the crates. "Sorry," he mutters, shaking his head. "That could've ended badly."

"But it didn't," I gently reminded him, looking around. "OK. So we know there's about six of them left. No sign of Ross- that's a good thing right? That he hasn't shown up yet?"

"He could be anywhere then," Bruce says slowly. "How did they find me?" he asks.

I feel a twinge of guilt in my stomach and I reply quietly, "It could be because of me. I was digging into information and when I came here I was asking around with a photo of you. I think...I think they found you because of me."

He shakes his head at this, however. "No, don't blame yourself, Lydia. It's not your fault- I don't think that they found me because of you. I think they found me in a different way. It's not exactly like they would be monitoring our every move right? Besides, the soldiers didn't even look at you when we first ran into them."

I remember how the blonde soldier's eyes had passed over me like I was meaningless and I let out a breath that I didn't even realise that I was holding in. But before I can say anything in response to this, Bruce asks, "How did you know they were in the city?"

My boss somehow knew and he tipped me off. Thank God- if not, they most likely would've caught us. Anyway, we need to get to the outskirts of the city. We can lose them in the forest if necessary."

He nods. "That's where I've been trying to head to."

"Let's keep going then," I say. "Are you right to continue?" He nods and the two of us walk out from behind the crates, only to be spotted by the blonde soldier.

"Crap! I thought we lost him!"

"Run!" Bruce orders, now dragging me by the hand towards another side street.

I hear a gun go off and a whizzing noise next to my ear alerts me to the fact that I just narrowly got missed by a tranquilliser dart. As I turn the corner, I see the soldier still following us. I push my legs faster, as the street curves and stop when Bruce suddenly freezes. I turn to see what he's looking at and I feel my mouth drop open as Thaddeus Ross steps out from a green van, a smirk on his face when he locks eyes with Bruce. When he looks at me though, the smirk vanishes and confusion replaces it instead., further confirming Bruce's belief that they hadn't been tracking me.

Bruce suddenly snaps into motion and runs down the street to our left and I quickly follow closely behind him, Ross disappearing from sight. We rush down some stairs before we run up some more before Bruce leads me through a dark alley, where people watch in confusion and surprise as we run. I look back and to my relief, no soldiers or green vans following behind us.

Bruce pushes open the gate at the end of the alley and we enter a packed street, slowing down as we run. Though I knew that it was probably best for us to keep moving, I knew that we needed to slow down momentarily in an attempt to catch our breaths once more. With the number of people that were in this street, we could easily blend into the crowd if we wanted to.

Bruce continues to look back once as we run and doesn't see the little bald man that he runs into and knocks over, causing Bruce to stop in his tracks. "Oh no," he winces slightly as three more men flank the angry bald man as he stands up and walks slowly towards us, screaming in Portuguese.

"You gotta be kidding me," Bruce mutters.

I can't help but raise an eyebrow as his disdained tone. "Friends of yours?" I ask sarcastically.

"Hardly," he replies just as the bald man rushes at him. He attempts to punch Bruce who easily ducks. Moving forward, I grab the guy by the collar and throw him over my shoulder just as another guy comes towards me, swinging his fist forward. I easily grab his hand and twist it, causing him to curl inwards and yell in pain. I then use my free hand to throat jab him before I sweep down in a circle kicking his legs out from underneath him.

He cries out in surprise as he goes down, though I don't pay him any attention as I glance up and my eyes land on the group of soldiers who had entered the street from the alley, quickly moving towards us once more.

We couldn't run forever: sooner or later we were going to have to deal with these soldiers, that much I knew. And judging by how quickly they were approaching us, I had a feeling that it was going to have to be sooner.

Like right _now._

"Bruce go!" I cry, quickly turning to face him."I'll hold them off."

"Lydia no!"

"Trust me! I can do it. Where do I meet you?"

He pauses briefly, considering an answer before he then replies, "The bottle factory!"

"All right then! Go! Take my bag."

Reluctantly he does so.

I take a deep breath and briefly watch him flee before returning my attention to the soldiers. To my delight, they've separated into small groups as they look through shop windows for any sign of Bruce and I. _Perfect._ This will make it easier for me to be able to take them down. With my heart racing with anticipation and adrenaline pumping through my veins, I run towards the first soldier who made the stupid mistake of going alone.

I run and use my hand to fling the gun from the now shocked soldier. He finally locks eyes on me but it's too late for him to do anything. I jump through the air so that my legs wrap around his neck and fling myself backwards, taking him down with me. I manage to loosen my grip from around his neck and flip up so that I gracefully land upright, though he tumbles forward, flipping and landing on his back. He hits his head hard as he goes down, and doesn't get back up.

 _One down, five more to go._

The next soldiers do see me coming and one manages to raise their gun in time and shoot at me. I easily dodge the dart though before reaching out and dragging it back with the wind where I then fling it forward as fast as I can, right into the other soldier who fired it. He drops to the ground almost immediately after the dart buries itself in his neck, informing me that whatever was in those darts, was strong enough to knock out on impact. By now, we have an audience with some people gasping and screaming at the scene in front of them. No one gets in between myself and the soldiers, however, leaving me to deal with them myself.

By this time the other soldier is close enough to me and he drops his gun, realising that it won't be effective on me. He attempts a high punch which I block before I retaliate with my own which he also blocks. This leaves his torso unguarded though so I knee him hard, causing him to curl over in pain before I then knee him in the face. He straightens up and takes a step back and doing another one of Nat's famous tricks, I jump, tucking my knees to my chest before kicking my legs out straight into the soldiers face, knocking him out immediately.

As I fall I lean back and land on the back of my shoulders, my hands resting on the ground next to my head with my legs bending over the rest of my body. I then fling them back up, my top half following soon after me where I then land on both feet. Two more soldiers have spotted me and are now running towards me, so I take a deep breath and go to meet them halfway.

As I run, I raise my hands up, palms flat before I let loose some light which shines directly into both of their eyes, momentarily blinding them. One recovers quickly though and reaches into his pocket to grab out a handgun. He starts to aim it before I then reach forward, grab it around the barrel and move it to the side. He grunts in surprise before I then swiftly kick him in the shin, wrap my own leg around his and use it to tug him from balance, making him fall to the ground. My hands are still wrapped around the gun though so I follow after him.

I feel his grip loosen though so I fly over him, roll forward until I'm standing up. The other soldier manages to punch me in the side, causing me to grunt in pain and stumble slightly. He wraps his arms around me entrapping my own to my side. Thinking quickly, I allow the fire to burn in my hands which happen to be right against his thighs. He screams and let's go, waving his arms in pain as his skin no doubt starts to blister beneath his now scorched clothes. I then use my earth and wind powers to break and lift a small slab of concrete from the ground before smashing it into his face.

He falls to the ground, wincing and moaning in pain and I can't help but feel a little bit of guilt. I didn't like using my powers at the best of time; especially when it came against other people and caused them some form of harm. A part of me believed that in doing so, I was only being the monster that Fury and everyone else was afraid would turn out to be.

 _You can't help it,_ a logical voice spoke from the back of my mind. _You did what you had to do to save Bruce._

I don't have time to apologise to the soldier still on the ground in front of me though, as the other soldier stands up, fully recovered now. With one flick of my hand though, the gun disappears from his hand and I lift him up with the air and bring him towards me, where I punch him hard in the face. He goes down too, lying next to his friend.

"Impressive," I hear a voice say from behind me and I whirl around to come face to face with the blond, middle-aged soldier: it appears my little wind trick from earlier hadn't slowed him down as much as I wanted it too. Glaring at him, I clench my fists and lean back into a protective stance to ready myself for a fight though he doesn't move: he just stares at me.

"How did you do all of that? Who are you?" He demands.

"Wouldn't you like to know," I mutter.

"Did you just catch on fire?" he asks, ignoring me.

Recalling Fury's warnings, I ever so slightly shake my head. "Nope."

"Well."

He then lurches forward, though I'm already prepared. I bend down at the last possible second and punch him hard in the side of his thigh before then grabbing his leg and pulling it out from underneath him. I then raise my fist, ready to bring it down on to his face when he catches, moves it to the side and headbutts me in the face.

I stagger back as he gets up, black dots appearing here and there in my vision. I push my pain to the side as I watch him, telling myself that I didn't have enough time to dwell on how much the headbutt hurt. He goes for a jab punch though I dodge to the left just in time, grab his hand and use it to swing him away from me. He stumbles slightly though he lunges for me again. I duck, then block a series of punches before I then spin and kick him in his chest when I come to face him again. This time he falls to the ground and I use my wind powers to create an invisible barrier, pinning him there.

He shoots me a curious look when he finds that he can't get up. "Are you controlling the air?"

"No offence but would you just shut up with the questions?" I snap before reaching down and electrifying him, watching as he spasms and is rendered unconscious. I pull away to take a deep breath, looking at the six soldiers, unconscious or on the ground moaning in pain, before than jogging in the direction towards the bottle factory, where hopefully Bruce is waiting for me.


	5. Chapter 4: Hulk Out

The sound of an angry voice cursing in Portuguese and clanging feet on metal stairs echoes throughout the bottle factory as I quickly make my way through it. Judging from how many voices I could hear, I quickly deduce that Bruce wasn't the only one waiting for me in here. Though I knew that it was unlikely to be some of the workers, as it was far too late for them to be here and working. I didn't think that it was the soldiers either, considering that I had left two-thirds of them lying unconscious in the middle of the street and none of the ones that had been chasing us were fluent in Portuguese.

Which meant that it as someone else altogether.

The front entrance of the factory is completely deserted with no sign of Bruce anywhere, yet I could still hear the sound of footsteps and yelling in the distance. I can't help but pause and curse almost silently under my breath as I recognise who the shouts belong to-the bald man and his friends that had attempted to attack Bruce in the square. They must have recovered quickly and followed after Bruce while I had been busy dealing with the soldiers.

Judging by how angry the voices sound and the way that the three men had behaved in the square, I couldn't help but think that there was the chance that things could take an ugly turn once more. That the men had followed after Bruce with the intention of finishing off what they had started in the square. With this thought in mind, I quickly lift my hands up and click my fingers to allow electricity to crack along the length of my fingers, before making my way over to the already open door of the locker room.

Much like the entrance to the factory, the locker room was just as deserted and once again there was no sign of Bruce anywhere. Quickly hurrying to pass the multiple lockers and small benches, I hurry over to the door on the other side of the room which I believed would lead to more of the factory. Quickly reaching down to grasp at the handle, I attempt to twist it open only to find that the door was locked. Huffing in frustration and quickly realising that it wasn't going to open itself, I move back away from the door. I then quickly lift my foot and slam it hard against the door, causing it to fly open with pieces of wood flying in the air.

Casting a brief glance at the now broken handle as I pass it, I quickly push past the now open door and find myself standing in what appears to be the first floor of the working space of the factory. Machines of all shapes and sizes fill most of the ground base, some of them filled with rows filled with empty glass bottles waiting to be filled with fizzy soft drink.

Cautiously, I walk down and past all of the machines, the electricity still humming and crackling in my hands as I go. My feet barely make a sound against the concrete as I move forward, making it almost impossible for me to not hear the sound of gleeful laughter and a loud crash from somewhere above me. Halting in my tracks, I look up and am met with the sight of the men from the square earlier taunting a frantic Bruce who was curled up on the ground between them.

He happens to look up and I can't help but gasp as I see that there's a green tint to his face, only just noticing now the sound of his heart monitor beeping like crazy. Knowing perfectly well what this could mean, I feel my own heart beat like crazy, hard and fast against my chest.

" _Bruce!"_

"Lydia run! I'm about to-" He cuts off mid-warning, however, as the little bald man delivers a hard blow to his stomach, causing him to groan in pain and curl in on himself even more.

An angry snarl works it's way up my throat at this and I feel my knees bend as I prepare myself to jump and fly up so that I could defend my cousin. I find myself freezing though, as one of the men who had been hovering around Bruce suddenly dropped to the ground unconscious.

I feel my eyes widen in surprise though they quickly narrow once more as I try to see what caused him to drop as suddenly as I had. But upon feeling the air currents shift behind me as something small whizzes through the air, quickly whirl back around and raise my hands up to create an invisible wall of air in front of me. To my absolute surprise, a tranquilliser dart bounces off and it lands on the ground with a clatter.

Glancing up just in time to see a soldier dart away from one of the many windows of the factory, I quickly discover that he wasn't one of the ones that I had fought in the square: which meant that there was more of them than we had originally thought.

"Bruce! They're here!" I scream with my eyes still fixed on the window the soldier had been looking through. But as a deafening and ferocious roar echoes throughout the room, I can't help but turn back around to face my cousin and the men once more. But to my absolute horror, I'm not met with the sight of my kind and patient distant cousin.

Instead, the towering, frightening green Hulk stands in his place.

The Hulk is even bigger than I had imagined. It easily towers over the four men looking up in horror beside it and a large amount of muscle appears on his chest and arms, giving him that bulky and large figure that also causes the red hoodie to be torn apart as he grows too big for it. His pants remain but in some places, they rip as they strain against him. His hands are huge and I could tell even from here that they would easily wrap around a human torso.

Compared to the footage, the Hulk was even more horrifying than I had thought.

And the only thing that reminds me that it's actually Bruce inside, is the mop of dark hair that sits on top of the Hulk's head.

Before I can even react, the Hulk grabs the bald man and throws him so hard and fast that I barely see it or have time to stop him as he crashes through an office window and comes bursting through the opposite wall, landing in a heap on the ground.

Not moving.

"Bruce no!" I yelled, watching as the two men hurried down the stairs to the ground floor where they run past me, without even a second glance. I make no move to stop then and I turn back as the Hulk lets out another deafening roar and jumps high in the air from the second floor, his arms raised as he starts to fall to the ground- awfully close to me.

A shriek of shock escapes past his lips as it lands in a crouch on the ground in front of me, digging its palms into the floor which caves slightly as a result. My body automatically freezes as I nervously watch the Hulk- _Bruce_ \- slowly lifts itself upright, his teeth bared as he growls. His green eyes lock with my blue ones and I can't help but tremble as I crane my neck back to keep our gazes locked.

The smart thing for me to do here would be to run, or at least create an air shield, though I was far too intrigued, fascinated and even terrified of what was in front of me.

When the Hulk squints it eyes at me and leans forward, I can't help but recoil back and suck in a sharp, nervous breath. This doesn't go unnoticed by him and to my utter surprise, he quickly leans back though he doesn't do so without snarling. I try to remain as still as possible, my nails digging into the soft and sensitive flesh of my palms as I clenched them: hard enough to draw blood. I make no move to wipe my hands clean of the red liquid, however, afraid that any sudden movements may aggravate the creature in front of me.

The Hulk suddenly lets out a loud roar, so loud that it causes me to wince and jump back with surprise. As I do so, the Hulk loses all interest in me and runs past me in the direction that the other two men had disappeared in just moments before. I watch it go, looking as it smashes into machinery and disappears around the corner.

"Bruce _stop_!" I scream. My scream is easily lost in the sound of multiple pairs of feet clanging against the metal stairs of the walkway above me, alerting me to the fact that the soldiers were now inside and chasing after the rogue Hulk. Knowing perfectly well that they were in danger if they tried to attack the Hulk, I take off after him.

I run down row after row of machinery, the sound of screaming, Bruce roaring and soldiers yelling to one another getting closer and bouncing off the factory walls. After running for what seems like forever, I'm about to change direction when a loud scream erupts from above me and I glance up just in time to see one of the two remaining men go flying above me, unconscious.

Thinking quickly, I stop and turn around to thrust my hands out towards him, using the air to slowly send the man to a stop. He immediately stops screaming and makes small whimpering noises of surprise as I lower him to the ground, surprised to find that he was wearing only one shoe.

When he lands on the ground I immediately lower my hands and hurry over towards him, glaring down as I ask, "Are you hurt?"

When he shakes his head, looking up at me in amazement, I only tilt my chin towards the direction that I had just come from. "Then get out of here. And quit bullying people while you're at it. Because I swear if you don't-"

He's already long gone before I have the chance to finish my sentence.

 _"We got a bogey of some kind!"_ I hear a soldier yell loudly, reverting my attention back to the present situation before I then hear a series of bullets being shot from guns. Creating an air barrier in front of me to protect myself from any stray tranquilliser darts, I surge forward once more.

I turn down another row of machines to see that they've all been knocked to the side, creating a larger and wider path for someone to walk down. Some have been damaged and are emitting smoke from the cracks where the Hulk has broken them and leaning against the far one of the left, is a soldier leaning motionless against it. The rise and fall of his chest is the only thing that indicated to me that he was alive.

I quicken my pace, rushing over to him before leaning down and checking his neck for a pulse, just in case. A wave of relief washes over me as I find one and I can still hear the sound of bullets, the soldiers yelling and the Hulk roaring, though they appear to be further away from me and this soldier. Not wanting to leave him out here in the middle of the open where he could easily be crushed by the large machinery or the Hulk, I look around for any type of shelter, my eyes landing on a restroom. I grab him under the armpits and drag him quickly into the room, laying him gently on the ground before then standing back up and running in the direction of the chaos.

The machinery is suddenly turned on as I run, causing me to believe that it was by accident as the bottles crash against one another and fall to the ground, shattering on impact. I don't look at this for too long, as I run around the corner, only to have a gun held to my face and a surprised looking soldier staring at me.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to exit the building," he says, lowering his gun as quickly as he raised it. "You shouldn't be here-"

"And neither should you unless you wanna die," I snap, causing him to blink in surprise. I take this moment to grab him on the shoulders and electrocute him, slightly, just enough to knock him out. He slumps forward and I manage to catch him before dragging him towards a wall where he leans, away from any machinery, just as another group of soldiers come around the corner from one end- and Bruce at the other.

We were trapped.

Immediately the soldiers start firing at him, even though by now they should surely realise that tranquilliser darts were pointless as they had no effect on Bruce: they just annoyed him even more. I quickly create a bubble of air around me and the soldier, trying to protect us from any stray bullets, the sound of them firing echoing throughout the factory and causing me to raise my hands up to my ears to protect them from the sound. Bruce lets out a roar and runs down another row of machinery, causing the soldiers to split up so that they could corner him from both ends.

Lowering my hands, I follow after one group silently behind them, the two of them completely oblivious to my presence. I keep casting glances towards other soldiers, surprised to see the blonde one who had been asking me the questions in the square fully recovered and running up a flight of stairs, though I soon divert my attention back to the soldiers in front of me when one of them throws a grenade towards the Hulk.

As expected, the explosion does nothing to Bruce except only cause a bright light to flash in front of him, illuminating the Hulk's silhouette. The soldiers yell in surprise and jump back, surprised at seeing how big their target was, having not seen him already due to the darkness of the factory. Once the light from the blast fades away and the Hulk disappears, the soldiers try to shoot their guns, only to find that they need to reload them. Fumbling slightly as they do so, they barely have enough time to look up and scream as the Hulk sends a massive piece of machinery their way.

I quickly raise my hands towards them the air whipping from my hands as I raise them high up in the air away from the dangerous machinery, their screams of surprise echoing of the factory walls. At the sight of the oncoming machinery, I bend my knees and push off from the ground flying straight up into the air, flying at level height with the two soldiers. I watch as the machinery passes underneath us and comes to a crashing halt at the end of the aisle as it smashes into another machine with a loud crash.

Seeing no more immediate threat after looking around to see whether or not the Hulk was anywhere in sight only to see him already walking away, I slowly lower the flailing soldiers to the ground before dropping to the ground altogether, my knees bent slightly as I land. Straightening up, I start to slowly tread forward, following quietly after the Hulk.

I keep my distance due to being afraid of startling him, though I keep my hands up in front of me, ready for any sudden attacks from him when a shard of bullets fly down and hit him in the back. Looking up I see that it's the blonde soldier targeting the Hulk, his eyes scrunched up in concentration as he aims and fires more bullets. Huffing in frustration, I push off the ground and fly up towards him to kick the gun out of his hand.

He shoots me a surprised look as I land next to him but before I can react, he swings at me. I manage to duck in time, taking a step back as I straighten myself, arms raised to block him if he decided to swing again. He goes for my stomach, though he doesn't come into contact with it as I lower my forearm to block his hit before then swinging it to knock his hand out of the way. Using this opening, I knee him hard in his thigh and he stumbles slightly as a result. I rush forward and raise my leg to place my foot on his other thigh before pushing off from it, my knee raised so that when I rise up I knee him in the face before I then spin back around to face away from him once he stumbles, landing with both feet on the ground.

I obviously didn't knee him hard enough however as suddenly two hands are placed hard on my shoulders and I'm suddenly lifted from the air before I am then slammed onto the ground, landing flat on my back and wincing as pain seers up my left shoulder.

"Don't get up," the soldier hisses from above me before straightening up and moving to his gun on the ground next to us.

"Not bloody likely," I mutter, rolling myself on to my stomach so that I can push myself up. While I do this though, I notice the soldier has his gun aimed directly at the Hulk, but there is hesitation and shock on his face. I turn to see what it is that he's looking at, only to find that the Hulk has stepped out from the shadows, revealing himself as he glares with his teeth bared towards the soldier who in turns lowers his gun slightly.

The Hulk suddenly roars and reaches for a piece of machinery next to him. Knowing who his targets were, I push myself up fully now and turn to run, just as he throws it and it comes crashing onto the floor level the soldier and I were standing on.

I'm thrown off my feet as the floor crumbles beneath me, the sound of explosions from behind me. I free fall through the air momentarily before my instincts kick in and I steady myself in the air, my hands pushing off the air to rise me high above the crumbling debris and the Hulk.

I see the soldier has managed to escape from the machinery too before another deafening roar fills the air and we both turn to see the Hulk raise a large piece of machinery and smash it through the wall, creating a large hole leading into the street for him to disappear into. Which he does so rather quickly.

 _"Hell,"_ I breathe. I go to follow him when I remember that Bruce had had our bags when he had entered the factory- he must've dropped them when the bald guy and his friends had ambushed him. Cursing, I turn and fly through the air as fast as I can, the machinery surrounding me becoming blurs as I do so before I land lightly on the floor level that Bruce had changed into the Hulk. I easily find my bag, but Bruce's bag was nowhere in sight. I would stay to look for it longer than I did, had it not been for the sound of approaching soldiers looming up on me. So I quickly grab my bag and sling it over my shoulder and fly back to the hole in which the Hulk had created. Landing on the ground and making sure that there were no soldiers following after me, I quickly break into a run, following the path of crushed trees and large footsteps in the mud so that I could find him.

* * *

Emil Blonsky slammed the bag that he had found in the factory onto the hard, wooden table, causing a large thump to echo throughout the room. The sound causes Thaddeus Ross and Major Kathleen Spleen to stop their quiet little conversation with one another, both turning to look at the cause of the sound.

"Banner has this on him while we were following him," Blonsky announces, moving slightly so that the two of them could inspect the bag closely. "He must've dropped in the factory. The girl- whoever the hell she is- had one too, but she left with it on."

Kathleen nods, already unzipping the bag to pull out a small, black laptop, her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at it. Nodding slightly to herself, she continues to pull the rest of the belongings from the bag, her eyes widening slightly when she pulls out a photo. She hands it to Ross who freezes when he looks at it, Blonsky notices. He himself leans over to see the photo and is surprised to see a pretty woman with dark hair and wearing a lab coat while she points to something on a blackboard, a smile on her face in it.

"A girlfriend?" Blonsky suggests. "She helps him maybe..."

Ross shakes his head before folding the picture over in his hand. "She is no longer a factor," he replies quietly. "We closed that door to him a long time ago. He's alone."

"I beg to differ,' Blonsky scoffs. "There was a girl. Average height, blonde hair-"

"I know- I saw her."

"But did you see what she could do?" Blonsky demands. "She-she could control fire! And electricity and earth! She could fly too! She did things that she could't- _shouldn't_ \- be able to do! And she fought better than most men."

"I had my men run a facial scan on her," Kathleen informs the two men. "Her name's Lydia Hathaway. She's untouchable sir."

"How so?"

"She's an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D," Kathleen replies. "A high level one too. You know we can't touch S.H.I.E.L.D agents. Sir."

Ross shakes his head again, his mouth pressed into a thin line. "Bloody S.H.I.E.L.D. They're always getting in the way."

Blonsky made a noise of disbelief. "S.H.I.E.L.D? What the hell is S.H.I.E.L.D? And I'll be damned that we can't get to the girl, she attacked half of our men-"

"S.H.I.E.L.D is apart of the government," Ross snaps. "A secret branch, an intelligence source to the governments of the world and we cannot touch their agents unless we want to lose their information for us. So Lydia Hathaway walks away as a free woman. Spleen, check the laptop and see if he's been talking to anyone," he says, speaking the last part to Kathleen.

"Forgive me sir, but what about the very big and very powerful creature that was in the building with the target, this Lydia girl and us soldiers? Does no one want to talk about that?" When Ross didn't immediately reply, Blonsky went red in the face. "It threw a fork lifter like it was a toy truck!" he half shouts, waving his arm in the air as he does so. Then in a much quieter, almost wistful voice, he adds, "It was the most powerful thing that I have ever seen."

"Well it's gone," Ross mutters, his head turning towards the open window, the sound of dogs barking in the street echoing throughout the city.

Blonsky huffs. "Well if Banner knows what it is, I'm gonna track him down and I'm going to put my foot on his throat and-" he starts to promise in a vicious tone.

"That _was_ Banner," Ross says, interrupting him, turning back around to face a very surprised and very confused Blonsky. "It. Was. Banner," he repeats, punctuating each word for emphasis. Though he knew by the expression on Blonsky's face that he didn't get what he meant by this.

"You have to explain," Blonsky demands, taking a step forward. "You need to explain, that statement sir."

Ross scoffs. "No, I don't," he informs the blonde soldier, before sighing loudly. "You've done a good job. Pack up and get our men on the plane- we're going home."

* * *

If I had known that I would be walking and flying from Brazil to Guatemala in the space of five days, then I would have bought more comfortable shoes.

I shrug off my backpack and place it on the ground before crouching down beside it to rummage through it and grabbing out a water bottle, to take a small sip and stare around the forest that surrounded me in every direction.

For four nights and five days, I had been switching between flying and walking through Brazil, Columbia, Panama, Costa Rica and Honduras and had arrived in Guatemala late last night, tracking Bruce. I knew that I could have made it here easily within a day, as it only takes seven and a half hours to fly from Brazil to Guatemala but that would have meant using up all my energy in one go. I was happy if the trip took longer if it meant that I could at least spend the nights in a hotel room to get some rest before flying and walking for the next ten hours of the day.

Yet I still hadn't managed to find him yet.

I sigh as I screw the lid of my water bottle tightly on the top of the bottle, before leaning back so that I was sitting rather than crouching, staring at the large footsteps that lead a little deeper into the forest. I didn't realise that Bruce could remain the Hulk for such a long period of time and could travel by foot this quickly. Thank God that he had left a trail for me to follow him by though, otherwise I would've lost him ages ago.

Sighing again, I push myself to my feet and shrug my backpack onto my back once more before I then start to follow after the Hulk's footsteps.

The jungle is quiet as I walk, the occasional sound of birds chirping filling my ears and the sound of water falling, leads me to believe that there's a waterfall close by. A colourful bird swoops down to the ground a little further up on the trail and I'm so intrigued by it that I almost don't notice the human footprint in the mud right in front of me. _Almost._

I quickly crouch down beside the footprint and gently place two of my fingers against it, to see whether or not it was a fresh one or was made a while ago. To my utter relief, my hand sinks in the mud, informing me that it was fresh- which meant Bruce was close by.

I stand up and quicken my pace, now slowly jogging. I keep my eyes focused on the footsteps imprinted on the ground as I follow them off the trail, through thick tree trunks and tropical ferns, the sound of the waterfall getting closer as I now start to run.

The more distance I run however, the less there are of the footprints in the ground, the ground becoming more dry and hard then back on the trail. Grunting slightly in frustration, I see the tree's disperse up ahead and the waterfall in the distance. Sprinting now as I past the last footprint, I burst through the thick ferns-

Almost tripping over an unconscious Bruce who was lying on the ground.

I yelp in surprise as I manage to leap through the air and over the body at the last second, stumbling slightly as I land on the ground once more. Once I've regained my footing, I quickly turn back to face him and find that he was lying flat on his stomach, his face pressed into the ground as his body shivered. He had no top or shoes on and his pants were ripped on many places, hanging limply from his body.

I quickly crouch down beside him and place my hands on his freezing, cold shoulders, almost recoiling back in shock at just how cold he was. Managing to suppress the urge to do so, I quickly give his body a gentle but urgent shake. "Bruce. Bruce, it's me- it's Lydia."

A small groan is my response, but other than that, he remains entirely still.

"You gotta get up now," I order gently. "We can't stay here- we're practically in the middle of nowhere and I don't want you to die of hypothermia on me. So get up."

Slowly, after one final shake, Bruce stirs and readjusts his position on the ground before he lifts his head up, his eyes still half closed. With a dazed expression on his face, he squints as he looks at me before his face lights up in realisation. "L-Lydia?" he asks weakly.

"That's right- it's me. Come on- we need to get you up."

He nods ever so slightly before he then pushes himself onto his hands and knees, steadying himself as he tries to get up. He gently places a hand on my shoulder for support as he bends and lifts his leg up, myself gripping him around the waist to keep him from losing his balance and falling over. He mutters a small thank you, as he finally straightens up with both of his shaking legs placed on the ground.

"Can you walk by yourself?"

He nods. "I think so- just, I think I may need a minute- just to...just to catch my breath."

I nod. "Take all the time you want."

He nods and we stand there in silence momentarily, his body leaning a little against mine, before he exhales sharply and shakes his head. "I've had one hundred and fifty eight days without the Hulk emerging and now this happens," he mutters mournfully.

"It wasn't your fault Bruce," I reply firmly. "You couldn't help it. Those four idiotic men provoked you and it didn't help that the soldiers were in Rocinha as well."

He turns to give me a confused look. "We're-we're not in Rocinha?" he asks.  
I shake my head. "We're in Guatemala," I hesitantly explain. "We haven't been in Rocinha for five days..."

"Five days?!" Bruce exclaims. "I was the Hulk for five days?" He turns away not waiting for my answer, his lips between his teeth. "I can't go on like this- I can't endanger anyone else! I need a cure," he says whispering the last part.

"Then I'll help you find one," I promise him, causing him to turn back to face me. "I'll help you."

"How do we do that?"

I pause for a moment, thinking to myself with ideas running through my head before I remember something. "You're associate- the one you met online. He suggested to you one possible cure- could he do it again?"

Bruce shrugs his shoulders. "Maybe- two days before you came, I sent him a blood sample to see if he could try to find a cure. He said he had something, but that he needed more data."

"Is it safe sending your blood to this guy?" I ask warily. "I mean, can you trust him?"

"I've got no one else," Bruce replies. "I only gave him a small amount anyway. All the data's back at home though..."

"So we go and get it then."

"It's not that simple- it's back in my lab, on Betty's computer."

"Ahhh," I reply, trailing off trying to think of a solution to the new found problem. After a moment, I say to Bruce, "Do you have any friends at or near Culver University, someone that you can most definitely trust?"

Bruce pauses for a moment, considering the answer to my question before he then nods. "Yes- there is."

"So here's a suggestion- we go back to Culver University, we stay with whomever your friend is, if they're willing to have us and we figure out our next move in getting the data then," I suggest. "Even if that means breaking into Betty's lab-house-wherever her computer is."

It takes a while for Bruce to respond, but he does in the end with a small nod of his head. "OK. We better get going then."

"Well first we're going to get to the nearest town and we're getting you a decent pair of clothes," I reply. "Are you right to walk now, or would you prefer more time?"

"No no- I'm fine," Bruce assures me. "But, Lydia...you do realise in helping me, that you're most likely wanted by Ross too?"

"Well, what a family for?" I reply, before we then start to walk back towards the trail.

For the next half, an hour of our walk, Bruce and I talk quietly amongst ourselves. I fill him in in what went down in the factory and how I got to Guatemala so fast, when Bruce suddenly asks me, "I didn't kill anyone, did I?"

I shake my head. "No- you didn't."

"But I did hurt some people, didn't I?"

My silence is enough for him to realise that he did. He groans and runs a hand down his face. "How badly?" He asks mournfully.

"You just knocked some people out or over," I reply quietly.

"And?"

I sigh. "Well, you did throw the bald man through a window- but if it makes you feel any better, the little bastard deserved it- never did like bullies." When Bruce makes another small groan, I turn to face him as we continue to walk through the forest. "Bruce, you shouldn't hold yourself accountable for what happened- it wasn't exactly you. The Hulk is like a whole new different person."

"Ross doesn't exactly see it like that," Bruce mutters darkly.

"From what I can gather, Ross is a power hungry man who doesn't realise what exactly it is he's dealing with," I reply, as we finally break through the trees and ferns and start to walk on the dirt road now. "So his opinion shouldn't really count in this situation."

Before Bruce can reply, a white truck drives slowly from around the corner, causing Bruce and I to wave our arms up in the air to get the driver's attention as they drive towards us. The truck slows before coming to a halt all together, Bruce and I rushing up towards it, peering through the open window at the man in the drivers seat.

 _"Você pode por favour ajudar-nos_?" Bruce asks desperately in Portuguese. "Can you please help us?" he repeats in English.

The man shoots us a confused look before he says in Spanish, " _Yo no hablo portugués_."

I turn to face a confused looking Bruce. "He doesn't speak Portuguese," I inform him. "He's speaking Spanish."

"I can't speak Spanish," Bruce replies, in a defeated tone.

"I can though," I reply before turning back to the driver, who was waiting patiently for one of us to speak to him. " _Nos podría ayudar_?" I ask, repeating Bruce's question in Spanish.

 _"Voy a la siguiente ciudad_ ," The man replies. " _Puedo illevarte allí si tu quireres_?"

"He's going to the next town," I translate for Bruce. "He can take us there if we want."

" _Gracias_ ," Bruce replies, causing the man to smile and open up the car door for us. I let Bruce climb in first, sitting down between myself and the man who takes his jacket off and places it around Bruce's shoulder, before he starts to drive forward again.

"So you can speak Spanish and Portuguese?" Bruce asks me. When I nod, he asks me, "Just how many can you speak?"

"French, Italian and I can speak a little Greek too," I reply. "I'm trying to learn German at the moment."

"That is...quite impressive," is Bruce's surprised reply.

"I sort of needed it for my job," I explain. "With S.H.I.E.L.D, you could end up anywhere in the world- its good to know a couple of languages or at least understand the basis and simple parts of it. I was taught some Italian in Junior High and college and Spanish in high school. Everything else I was taught when I was at the SHIELD academy."

 _"A dónde vas_?" The man suddenly asks.

"Where are we going?" I translate for Bruce.

"We're going home," he says quietly.

* * *

B lonsky and Ross push open the swinging doors before they then start to walk down a long and dark corridor, where men wearing army uniforms or pressed suits occasionally appear from doors to cross to other ones or talk among themselves quietly, barely taking any notice of them.

"I've run into bad situations on crap missions before," Blonsky informs Ross. "I've seen good men go down purely because someone didn't let us know what we were getting into. But I always moved on to the next one, because that's what we do, right? I mean, that's the job. But this?" he asks, coming to a stop, causing Ross to stop and turn around to face him, waiting for Blonsky to finish what he was about to say.

"This is a whole new level of weird," Blonsky states. "And I don't feel inclined to step away from it. So if you're taking another crack at him, I want in. And with respect, Sir, you should be looking for a team that's prepared and ready to fight because if that thing shows up again, then you're going to have a lot of professional tough guys pissing their pants."

Ross remains silent for a moment after Blonsky finishes his rant before he then beckons for the blonde soldier to follow him into an empty room, where he locks the door behind them. "Let me say that what I'm going to tell you is tremendously sensitive to the US Army and me," he says to Blonsky. "You're aware that we have an Infantry Weapons Development program." When Blonsky nods in response, Ross continues. "Well, in WWII, they initiated a subprogram, for Bio-Tech Force Enhancement."

"Yeah, Super-soldier," Blonsky says.

Ross nods. "Yes- an oversimplification, but yes. And I dusted it off, got some people doing some serious working. Across the hall, they were trying to arm you better, while we were trying to _make_ you better," Ross informs him. "Banner's work was the very early phase- it wasn't even weapons application. He thought he was working on radiation resistance. Never, would I have told him what he was really working on."

"You're saying you got Banner to try and recreate the perfect soldier?" Blonsky asks.

"Without realising it, he was working on he serum to make a super soldier possible," Ross corrects him. "It was meant to be tested on a soldier, but Banner insisted that he try it on himself. But something...something went very wrong. Or...it went very right. As far as I'm concerned, that man's body is the property of the US Army," he adds. "But one serum, over time, we developed- and it's promising."

"So why did he run?" Blonsky asks, confused.

"He's a scientist," Ross scoffs, shaking his head, taking a seat behind the desk in the room. "He's not like us," he adds before locking eyes with the soldier in front of him. "Blonsky, how old are you? 45?"

A tight smile works it's way on Blonsky's face. "39, Sir."

Ross nods. "It takes a toll doesn't it?"

"Yes," Blonsky agrees. "It does."

"So get out of the trenches," Ross suggests. "You should be a Colonel by now, with your record."

"No-I'm a fighter," Blonsky replies. "And I'll be one as long as I can. You know, if I could take what I know now and put it in the body I had ten years ago, that would be someone that I wouldn't want to fight."

Ross couldn't help but grin. "I could probably arrange for that to happen," he informs Blonsky happily.

* * *

 **GUEST REVIEWS RESPONSES:**

 **FanGirlForever19** : I'm glad that you like Lydia as a character, and I really hope that you continue to do so as the story progresses!

 **FangedMe:** Ahhh thank you so much! I'm really glad you like the story so far! And uh, no spoilers for who the person that she ran into was, but I think we both know the answer to your question ;)


	6. Chapter 5:Old and New Faces

The sound of the alarm clock blaring throughout the room is loud enough to wake me from my deep slumber and cause me to raise my arm up weakly to turn off the machine that had awoken me. I can't help but groan slightly at the bright sunlight that was panning through the window, harsh against my sensitive, sleepy eyes. Quickly lowering my arm once more, I bury my face into the pillow and decide to wait until I was more awake, before resurfacing once more.

After a week and a half of walking, flying and catching buses whenever we could, we had finally arrived in Willowdale, Virginia late last night. It had been far too late to go and find Bruce's friend who could help us, as they most likely would have been asleep. So we had decided in the end to find the nearest hotel to sleep in for the night and go to Bruce's friend today.

Bruce hadn't been fond of the idea of staying in a hotel in the town where he could be easily recognised, but I had managed to persuade him in the end, promising that it would only be for one night and that he didn't have to talk to the clerk at the front desk. Once he gave in we got ourselves a room and soon passed out on the comfortable beds that were waiting for us.  
After some discussion yesterday, Bruce and I had come up with a plan of sneaking into his old lab when Betty was on lunch break so that we could get the data from the computer and sneak back out, without being seen.

Which is exactly what we were going to attempt to do today.

Slowly lifting my head once more to check the time on the clock, I discover that it's eleven thirty in the morning. According to Bruce, Betty usually went for a lunch break around the one o'clock mark. That was something she used to do roughly four years ago though, which meant that there was a chance that she had changed her routine up a bit. She could leave earlier or later-either way I wanted to get to the university early so that we could see when she left. For us to have the right amount of time, we basically needed to enter the building the minute that Betty exited it. Even if that meant waiting around for a couple of hours to see when she leaves.

After having a quick shower and drying my hair, I exit the bathroom to be greeted with the sight of the still sleeping Bruce. Part of me didn't want to wake him up, noticing the peaceful expression on his face as he dozed. He was probably having one of the best nights of sleep in years, having been living on the run for the past couple of years. From what he had told me, he rarely slept in hotels. Sometimes he would sleep in alleyways or in parks-sometimes he was able to find a cheap, run-down motel that didn't ask him for too much information. Every time he had managed to settle down as well, he only had enough to ensure that he survived.

It had been no way to live but he had been forced to do so, to ensure that Ross didn't get his hands on him.

But hopefully, once we had the data and found his friend, we could get him a cure. And with a cure, he had a chance of getting his old life back.

Knowing that if we didn't leave soon then there was the possibility of missing our opportunity, I tread lightly across the room so that I was standing beside his bed. "Wake up Banner," I order gently, standing above his sleeping form. He doesn't respond to my voice, however. He just continues to lay there, breathing heavily as he sleeps.

"Bruce, please get up," I request. When I am met with silence once again, I sigh and reach down, my fingers curling over the edge of the warm blanket. Once I have a firm grip on it, I pull it back and off Bruce's body, exposing him to the much cooler air of the room.  
The reaction is immediate. Bruce bolts up, more in surprise then anger, his eyes squinted almost shut as he looks around, confused. When he locks eyes on me, he sends me a glare. "What was that for?" he asks somewhat groggily, due to the sleep filled form he was still in.

"You weren't waking up. As much as I like to sleep in myself, we need to leave soon so that we can watch for when Betty leaves."

At the mention of Betty's name, Bruce's face clears a little and he blinks a couple of times in an attempt to properly wake himself up. "What time is it?"

"Almost twelve now," I reply, gesturing my hand towards the clock on his own bedside table. "It'll take about fifteen minutes to get to the university too. So if we wanna do what we need to do, then we're going to have to go relatively soon."

He lets out a weary sigh but nods his head in agreement. "Right," he mutters before he then lets out a quick yawn and pulls himself to his feet. Moving to the side to allow him to pass me, I quickly reach down and grab the handle of the new bag that we had bought for him a couple of days ago. With leaving his back in the factory in Rocinha, we had been forced to get him some new clothes and a bag for him to keep everything in.

He murmurs a small 'thank you' as he gently pries the hand from my hand before he then moves off towards the bathroom, informing me that he was just going to have a quick shower before we leave.

While Bruce is showering I quickly start to pack the small number of belongings that I had with me currently back into my duffel bag. My phone then starts to vibrate suddenly in the back pocket of my jeans, alerting me to the fact that someone was trying to call me. Reaching down to pull it out, I can't help but wince slightly when I see the name of the person who was calling me flashing on my screen. Knowing that I couldn't ignore them forever, however, I reluctantly press the answer button and bring the phone up to my ear. "Hey Clint," I greet warily.

 _"Oh, hey Lyd,_ " he says cheerfully, though I can easily hear the falseness to it. I knew that how he sounded was nothing compared to how he was feeling. I could practically hear him clenching his jaw on the other line." _How's life?"_

"...Great?"

 _"Really? Well, that's good to hear. I just wasn't sure whether or not to call you or to come and find you, seeing as I've spent the past couple of weeks thinking that you were dead."  
_  
"I'm sorry-"

 _"You told me five days,"_ he snaps, the cheerfulness fading away altogether to instead be replaced with anger. Anger, worry and relief. Angry because I hadn't called him to tell him that I was alright, or that I was extending my stay with Bruce. Worry, because he had thought that something terrible had happened and that there was a chance I was dead. Relief, because this proved not to be true.

" _So imagine my surprise when two weeks ago, after your five days are up, you don't come home. Hell, you didn't even call to let me know. As I said, I thought that you were dead-"  
_  
"I'm sorry!" I blurt out, making sure to do so quiet enough so that Bruce couldn't hear me from where he was in the bathroom. "I know I should've called-I'm an idiot! But I've been preoccupied and I haven't had the best reception hiking in the middle of a jungle-"

" _What?"  
_  
My eyes widen as I realise what it was that I had just said and I mentally slap myself for doing so. Knowing deep down however that it was best for me to tell him now and get it over and done with, I explain quietly, "There was an incident-"

 _"Are you OK?_ " he demands, the fury disappearing from his voice momentarily to be replaced with concern and worry.

"I'm fine," I quickly assure him, subconsciously reaching up to rub at my shoulder which was covered in bruises from where the soldier had grabbed me and slammed me to the floor in the factory the other day. "Soldiers came after Bruce. As a result, he was provoked and he changed. We're not in Rocinha anymore though. We've spent the past couple of weeks trying to make our way back to the states."  
 _  
"How come?"_

"He has an associate somewhere here. We need to get the data from his old lab and send it to his associate, as there's a chance that they may be able to find a cure for him."  
 _  
"Is that even possible?"  
_  
I glance at the bathroom quickly and pull the phone away from my ear, listening to whether or not the water was still running in the shower: I didn't want Bruce to overhear my response. When I hear the sound of the water running, I let out a breath I didn't even realise that I was holding in in the first place before I then turn back around and place the phone to my ear once more. "To be quite honest, I don't know. The accident changed him, in a way that I think there may be no going back from. But I'm still going to help try and find him one."

There's a brief silence on the other end of the line. Then: _"How long is that going to take then?"_

My heart sinks at his question, knowing perfectly well what it was that he was getting at. "I honestly don't know," I admit, hearing him sigh at my response. "All I know is is that Bruce needs my help. And I'm not leaving him until he's alright again."  
 _  
"Will he be?"_

I pause, taking a moment to consider what my Uncle had asked. Would Bruce be alright? He had what I would call a serious condition that caused him to lash out and lose control-which sometimes caused people to get hurt. As a result, he felt nothing but intense guilt when he had discovered what he had done as the Hulk once he was back to being Bruce once more.

And when I say intense guilt, I mean intense guilt. He was a quiet man already, but ever since I found in Guatemala and informed him of what had done as the Hulk, he was eerily even quieter. He only ever talked whenever I started a conversation that demanded a response from him.

He also got lost in thought a lot and was plagued with nightmares, muttering apologies in his sleep and begging his victims for forgiveness.

Begging Betty for forgiveness.

And let's not forget what it was like for him before I had come along and barged my way through his door. He had been forced to live alone for years, his only companions that I knew of being a dog and a stranger that he had never met before in person.

He had been through so much. And there was a chance that he may not ever be able to properly move past it.

"I don't know," I reply both softly and honestly, casing a glace towards the still closed bathroom door. "He's been through so much. I don't exactly think that a cure is just going to fix everything. Physically, yes. But mentally..."

 _"Not so much."_

"No. Or at least, not straight away. It may take time for him to move past this, but it's not going to to be a walk in the park," I relent in a voice barely above a whisper, cautious of the fact that Bruce was only twenty feet away and there was a chance that he could hear me. "But I'm still going to help him: I have to."

 _"He isn't your responsibility, Lyd,"_ Clint replies slowly as if he knew that there was a chance that I wasn't going to like what he had to say. _"I know you want to help him, but please come home. If not now, then soon. He isn't your mission-"_

"No, he's not," I agree, standing up as I feel myself slowly starting to grow frustrated with the sudden turn in the conversation. Pacing along the length of the bed, I continue before he has the chance to reply, "He's family. Bruce is my family, Clint. So do you really think that I'm just going to up and leave him? And after everything that's happened?"

 _"I get that you want to help him, but you were gone for five days and already turned to shit,"_ he snaps back. _"This is dangerous Lyd."_

"And any other missions that Fury or Coulson have sent me on haven't been?" I ask dryly, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

My words cause for Clint to curse silently under his breath, and I could tell that he was becoming as increasingly frustrated as I was at the lack of progress that our conversation was making. It was clear that neither of us was willing to back down just yet, though I knew that if I went about this the right way, then it was likely that I could get him to change his mind.

 _"Your missions involved you dealing with people and guns: not a big massive green thing that could seriously hurt you without even blinking,"_ He continues. " _I'm sorry: I get that Bruce is a good guy, but have you even considered that there's a chance that when he's changed that he has no control?"  
_  
I'm shaking my head before he's even finished speaking. "I don't think he would hurt me," I reply slowly, my mind diving into the memory of when Bruce had changed in the bottle factory and he had jumped down right in front of me. He could have easily attacked me right then and there but he didn't. It was almost as if he...recognised me? Whether or not that was possible, I don't know but none the less, it was a possibility.

"When he was the Hulk-"

 _"The what?"_

I can't contain a smile at the confused tone to his voice. "We call the big green guy the Hulk," I explain. "It's like a whole different person to Bruce. But anyway, when the Hulk emerged, it sort of recognised me...I think...and walked straight past me. So I think it-he, knew me."

For the first time since he had first rung me, Clint is silent on the other end of the line. Knowing that there was a strong possibility that he was considering what I was saying, I only cease pacing and silently sink back down onto the soft mattress of the bed. With the fight leaving my body, I slowly reach up to run my fingers through my messy locks and bite my lips to prevent a sigh that threatened to escape past them.

Despite the fact that I was being stubborn and didn't want to give in to what Clint was asking, a small part of me could see where it was that he was coming from. I knew that he felt responsible for me, having been so since I was twelve years old. Maybe there was a part of him that still saw me as the young girl who had lost her mother and had shown up on his doorstep with nothing but a few bags of belongings in her hands. Or maybe he saw me as the girl I was before I had been captured.

But I was twenty-one years old: an adult. As much as I appreciated the concern, I knew that I was old enough to take care of myself.

Not wanting to anger him any more than I may already have, I decided to swallow down the remaining of my anger and save this conversation for another day. "Clint?" I ask hesitantly. "You still there?"

 _"Still here,"_ he assures me tiredly, before sighing in what sounds like defeat. _"I'm sorry, kiddo. It's just... you know that I'm only trying to look out for you."_

My anger fades away into almost nothingness at these simple words. "I know," I assure him softly. "That's exactly what I'm trying to do for Bruce too."

He sighs again at this, though his next words cause for a feeling of relief to wash over me. _"Fine. Help Bruce. But can you please keep me updated this time? No more wandering in the middle of nowhere where there's no cell phone reception."_

I can't help but smile at this. "Deal."

 _"Where are you now anyway?"_

"Back in the states" I answer. "Took us about two weeks to get here. We're in Virginia, waiting to get access to Bruce's old lab."

 _"And where's Bruce's associate?"_

"I don't know. He and Bruce communicate online," I explain. "Hopefully not too far away though. The sooner we get to him, the sooner that this can all be over, and Ross can leave him the hell alone."

I can practically sense Clint's confusion from the other end of the line. " _Ross? As in Thaddeus Ross?"_

"Yeap."

 _"I thought he would have given up on finding Bruce? It's been...what? Two years?"_

"That's what I thought," I reply somewhat bitterly, the annoying smirk of the army general flashing across my mind at his words. It surprised me how quickly I had begun to loathe this man even though I had never spoken to him, but I guess it was understandable when Bruce had told me what he planned on doing with the Hulk. "He wants to use the Hulk as a weapon. It's why he first started looking for Bruce in the first place, and why Bruce ran."

 _"So I take it then that this incident that you were referring to earlier, had something to do with him?"_

I find myself nodding to confirm this, even though he couldn't see me doing so. "He sent some soldiers after Bruce and a couple of civilians cornered him in the factory that he worked in. When the soldiers showed up, Bruce was provoked and he changed into the Hulk. We managed to lose them though, and we haven't seen them since we left Rocinha."

 _"But that doesn't mean that they're not still coming for him,"_ Clint points out warily. _"For all you know, they may know exactly where you are and are just waiting for a chance to take him when you least expect it."_

His words cause me to cast a wary glance towards the window across the room, paranoia suddenly clenching me tightly. "Gee, I really needed to hear that right now," I reply sarcastically, not liking his words one bit.

It seems that my words only bring my uncle joy, as he only laughs in response. _"You're a spy, Lyd. You should be used to this by now."_

"Normally it's me doing the watching though, and not the other way around," I remind him, hearing him snicker as I reluctantly draw my gaze away from the window and settle back down on the bed once more. I shake my head, silently reminding myself that for the moment, Bruce and I were safe. If Ross really knew where we were, then he would have come for us by now.

I glance up as the bathroom door opens, revealing a dressed and ready Bruce who slides a cap over his damp hair, the clothing item concealing half of his face. Good. If we were back in his hometown, then it was possible that people could easily recognise him. The more that he hid of himself, the better.

"I have to go," I inform my uncle, ignoring the quizzical look that Bruce sends me as I speak. "But I promise I'll call you soon to let you know how things are going, OK Clint?"

I watch as Bruce's face lights up with realisation, though I remain silent as Clint replies, " _OK. I'll let you go. But promise me that you'll be safe, Lyd."_

"Aren't I always?" I jokingly ask before I then promptly hang up, avoiding having to listen to any sarcastic retort that he thought of to reply with. Throwing my phone to the side once I've hung up, I turn my attention back towards Bruce who was still standing in the doorway of the bathroom. "You right to go?"

He nods, guilt seeping across the features of his face. "I hope that you're not in anymore sort of trouble for helping me," He says.

I only shrug at this. "It's nothing that I can't handle," I inform him with a dismissive wave of my hand. "It's just Clint being Clint. He's been a little overprotective ever since he took me in."

A small smile creeps onto his lips at this. "I suppose that that's understandable, with your job."

And the fact that I was missing for almost a year, I think to myself though I don't say this out loud to him. Instead, I only stand up straight before then leaning down and grabbing my phone from the bed so that I could shove it into the back pocket of my jeans. "Yeah, well, we've got more pressing things to worry about," I reply before I then move off to grab my already packed bag. "Now. Let's go and break into a uni."

* * *

I shift slightly so that the grass beneath me no longer scratches against my bare shoulder, the sunlight raining down on me where I lay on the soft, cut grass. It was a perfect day, with not a single cloud in the blue sky and the air was still, not an ounce of a breeze to be felt.

I had my eyes closed, but my other senses provided with what was in my surroundings. I could hear the sound of university students talking to one another, each of their voices easily getting drowned out by each other so that they were nothing but faint noises, though I could hear snippets of what exactly they were talking about. Rude teachers. Late assignments. Football games and their love lives. Some even cheered and called out to one another, the ground shaking slightly beneath the stampede of running feet. Though my eyes were closed, I could tell by their eager shouts that they were throwing something around. Probably a Frisbee or a football.

I could also hear the distant sound of the traffic, the road not too far where Bruce and I were sitting. Or, more accurately, where he was sitting. I was currently lounging back on the grass, my legs crossed over one another and my arms folded beneath my head, sunglasses perched on my face and hiding my closed eyes. We had been sitting on the front lawn of the university for an hour now, and I had quickly succumbed to my need to lay back and relax under the sun, not having had the opportunity to do so for a while.

Bruce must notice the content look that was plastered to features of my face, as I hear him ask with a hint of amusement in his tone, "Having fun down there?"

"Absolutely."

He chuckles at this. "Not to be rude or anything, but I don't exactly see how this is you acting as a lookout..." He trails off, pointedly.

The bottom half of my face contorts into a playful pout a this. "I'm basking it all in," I reply, finally cracking my eyes open so that I was staring up into the clear sky, though it appeared darker than

it really was due to the glasses that I was still wearing on my face. "I mean, it's a perfect day, and this is the first time in what seems like forever that we have a chance to sit down and relax for a bit."

"But aren't we meant to be watching for Betty?"

"Yes, but that task itself isn't something that requires gruelling effort," I reply, though I pull myself up so that I was sitting upright for good measure. "Just try and relax Bruce," I add softly. "It'll be fine. We can sit here peacefully and still look for Betty at the same time."

Judging from the look on his face, I can tell that he's conflicted over what it was that I was suggesting. He was still on edge and had been since we had left the hotel, and I blamed it on his fear that he would be recognised by someone-or even Betty. His fear had my heart clenching with sympathy and my blood boiling with a controlled rage directed towards a man who was not here.  
I hated Ross for what he had done and what it was that he was trying to do to Bruce. I hated the fact that the manhunt for my cousin which Ross had initiated for his own agendas had forced Bruce to live in a constant state of paranoia and fear. It wasn't right.

But hopefully, if Bruce's associate could provide us with a cure, Bruce would no longer have to live like this.

I watch as he now lets out a sigh of defeat before he then leans back and puts all of his weight on his arms. With his hands laying flat on the grass behind him, he tilts his head up ever so slightly so that more of his face could be hit by the warmth of the sunlight above us. "It's weird to be back," He murmurs quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly as he spoke. "I mean, everything is the same...but different at the same time. Though I guess this whole scene would be familiar for you."

"What do you mean?"

"University," He explains, angling his head towards me as he spoke. "I mean, classes, football rallies and..." He trails off, however, as I chuckle at this. "What?"

I quieten down, shaking my head slightly though the smile still remained glued to my face. "Sorry. It's just uh, I never really did the whole university thing. Or I did, but I didn't really get the full experience out of it."

His confused look only deepens at this. "What do you mean?"

"Well for starters, I graduated high school a couple of years earlier," I explain, mirroring his actions by leaning back and putting all my weight on my arms and hands. "So going to parties and drinking wasn't something that I could really be a part of. Or I could, but I wasn't really into it back then."

"What did you study?"

"Astrophysics and psych. It's actually how I met my friend Jane: she was studying astrophysics as well. But at the same time, I was also training at the SHIELD academy, so there wasn't exactly a lot of time for me to just chill out and do my own thing. Uh, I never got the chance to graduate either. SHIELD sort of became my priority, and then I was taken, so..."

"I'm sorry," Bruce replies, sympathy lacing his voice.

I only shrug, diverting my gaze towards the grass in front of me. "That's life. If I'm being perfectly honest, I'm not entirely too upset about not finishing. College was never really something for me. I've always wanted to be a SHIELD agent-and now I am."

Bruce remains silent at this, and whether it was simply because he thought there was nothing more to be said or because he couldn't think of a single thing to respond to this with, I didn't know. I don't call him out on though, and instead, the two of us sit there peacefully, Bruce still keeping a close eye on the entrance of the building in front of us, waiting for Betty to appear.

Eventually, my curiosity gets the better of me and I break the silence by asking, "So say we do get you a cure: what happens then? I mean, would you come back here and teach?"

He doesn't immediately answer this and instead tilts his head to the side thoughtfully, clearly considering an answer. Briefly chewing on his bottom lip thoughtfully, it takes him a little while longer for him to answer. "I don't know...possibly? I mean, I always liked teaching. The students were respectful enough and most of the people on the staff were friendly. I guess it all just depends..."

He trails off unexpectedly, the sudden silence causing me to turn and look at him to see what he caused him to do so in the first place. I find that he wasn't looking at me, or the grass in front of him or even the sky above us. Instead, his gaze was fixed on something somewhere in front of him, and when my eyes land on what- or who- it was that he was looking at, I feel my mouth part in shock.

Betty.

She's even prettier in person rather in a photo. Her long, raven black hair falls down the front and back of her green dress, framing her face as she smiles down at the ground, walking down the steps of the entrance and away from Bruce and I. Away from the entrance- this was our chance.

"Bruce, we should-" I start to say, but I cut myself off as I turn my attention back to my cousin once more, only to find that he was no longer seated beside me, but instead had lurched to his feet and was following after Betty, keeping a safe distance away from her in case she happened to turn around and spot him.

I immediately jump to my feet and jog after Bruce, dodging past students that were walking on the path before slowing to my normal walking pace once I reach Bruce. He doesn't stop though or acknowledge my presence- instead, he just keeps on walking, his head ducked down slightly so that his baseball cap can cover more of his face.

"Bruce?" I ask, but he doesn't reply. His eyes are solely locked on Betty, his mind clearly somewhere else instead of here at the university with me. Knowing that it was unlikely that he would be capable of having a conversation with me when he was in this state, I give up any plans of conversation and instead just walk along beside him, keeping my head up and eyes focused on Betty in front of us. It didn't matter if she turned around and saw me staring- she had no clue as to who I was. As long as I diverted my eyes quickly if she did happen to see me, then she wouldn't think twice of me.

We follow her for another five minutes before she finally comes to a stop and takes a seat on one of the campus' benches. She places her bag beside her before then pulling out her phone to check and see if she had any messages, a bright smile working it's way on her face as she stared down at the screen in her hands.

Bruce and I quickly duck behind a tree about fifteen yards away from where she's sitting, peeking around the large trunk to watch her. "Why don't you just talk to her?"I ask, turning to face Bruce who has still not removed his eyes from Betty since he saw her.

He shakes his head, his face paler than it had been moments before. "I can't. It's too dangerous, for both of us. I can't drag her into this mess," Is his bleak reply.

"But you miss her," I point out gently, not satisfied with his answer. "Don't you think she misses you too? Or that she wonders whatever happened to you and where you are now?"

"I tried to make contact with her once," Bruce replies, his words surprised me a little. "To let her know I was sorry for hurting her, that something in me had changed. But Ross got in the way. I haven't seen or spoken to Betty since she was hospitalised before I then ran- I didn't even get the chance to say I was sorry," He admits in a small, almost broken voice.  
"You can't blame yourself- Ross forced you to run. But he's not here now. And she is. Go for it."

He only hums in response, but before I can even manage to get another word of encouragement out, he suddenly makes a startled yelp and ducks back behind the tree, the sudden noise and movement causing me to jump with fear.

"What?" I question anxiously, following suit and ducking back behind the tree. "Did someone you see recognize you? Is Ross here?"

He shakes his head, much to my relief. "No. She just looked over in our direction."

I let out a breath that I didn't even realise that I was holding in in the first place before I risk a look around the tree to see that Betty was nowhere near looking in our direction, but instead to a man walking towards her. He was tall, with short, dark hair and olive skin. He was wearing casual jeans with a pale blue button-up shirt. Whoever this man was caused the smile to grow wider on her face, her eyes light up before she then places her phone back into her bag and stands up, waiting for the man to reach her.

"Is she still looking?" Bruce asks anxiously from beside me. "Did she see me?"

I don't answer immediately, as I watch the man reach her before then leaning down and giving her a small peck on the cheek, clasping his hands with her own. A pang of sadness fills me for Bruce, was still quite hung up about this girl and had never fully moved on. Though she had...she obviously couldn't wait any longer for Bruce to make an appearance in her life- she had moved on and found someone else.

"No," I reply, turning my attention away from the still kissing couple to turn to Bruce, only to find that he's already staring directly at them, an emotionless expression on his face.

"I'm sorry," I say in a small voice, my eyes turning to where his were looking.

He swallows thickly, not tearing his eyes off the happy couple. "Don't be," he replies in a voice as equally as small as mine. "She has a life- I shouldn't be the reason that she held back from anything."

"Still," Is all I can think to say of at the moment. After we stare at the couple for a moment longer, the both of us lost in our own thoughts, Bruce suddenly shakes his head and turns to face me. "Come on," He murmurs quietly, the sadness easy to detect in his tone. "We've been waiting for her to leave so we can get in. Now is our chance."

I wasn't quite ready to just go ahead with the plan just yet, however, not when I knew that he was hurting. "Are you OK?" I ask, also turning to face him. "Really...are you OK?"

"I'm fine," he says, though I can tell that he's not being one hundred percent honest with me. Seeing Betty with another guy shattered any hope he had left of reconnecting with her, I think. Since he ran, she was the one thing that made him happy, unless of course, he remembered how he had hurt her by accident that day in the lab. The one thing that he clung to.

"Let's go," he adds, brushing off any hopes I had of myself continuing this conversation with him as he turns around and starts to walk back towards the entrance of the University.

"Right. So we sneak in, go to Betty's computer and log in- do you remember her password?" I ask after a couple of minutes of silence, having not been able to endure it for much longer.

He nods. "I think so. She always uses the same password for everything."

I nod along with him. "OK, good. Right, so we then copy the data on to our USB and then make our way to the public library where we then send the data to your friend."

"Mr Blue."

"What?" I ask, confused as to what he just said.

"Mr Blue- it's what his alias is," he explains.

I raise an eyebrow. "Do I wanna know yours?"

"Mr Green."

"Ha," I grin. "Funny."

"Sort of suits me when you think about it," He adds, a small smile also working on his face as we climb the front steps of the entrance. And despite the fact that it doesn't quite meet his eyes, a part of me was glad that he was at least attempting to lighten the mood, even though it had been crushed when he had seen Betty with her boyfriend.

"Does Mr Blue turn into large, well-muscled blue guy with severe anger issues?"

He snorts. "Not that I know of," he replies, pausing to reach forward and hold open the door for me. I thank him, allowing for three students to make their way through it first before then walking in, only to come to a screeching halt as the smile on my face faded away at the sight in front of me.

"Lydia?" Bruce questions from behind me, obviously not seeing the problem at hand yet. "What-"

When he suddenly cuts off though, I realise he's seen the guard checking student badges before they then walked through a metal detector machine. The security literally had all the students that wanted to enter the building lined up in front of him. When some tried to push through, he ordered them to get back in line or else.

Which meant that without a student card and with the metal gun-that I remember is still sitting at the bottom of my duffel bag- there was no way we were going to get past the security card and into Betty's lab.

"We can't get through" Bruce exclaims hopelessly, a look of despair falling across his face.

"I could try a window or something?" I suggest but then shake my head before he even has the chance to properly consider it. "Scratch that. Me flying up to a window in broad daylight is just going to drag more unwanted attention to us."

"We could come back later?" Bruce says hopefully. "When it's dark?"

"Window alarms," I reply, shaking my head, before running a hand through my hair in frustration. "Damnit! We're gonna have to think of something else."

"Stan may be able to help us."

"Who's Stan?" I ask, readjusting the baseball cap on my head when the security guard glances our way. "Is he that friend you can trust?"

Bruce nods, also turning away. "He owns a pizza shop not far from here. It's usually closed on Monday nights but he lives in the house behind it. He should be home."

"Then let's go," I reply, grabbing Bruce's sleeve and pulling him towards the entrance of the University once more.

* * *

"Stanley's," I say, reading aloud what the sign on top of the Pizza shop in front of me says. "Air conditioned and take out and delivery," I add before turning to Bruce, a smile on my face. "Sounds good to me!"

He nods and takes a couple of steps forward before knocking three times on the glass of the door, the two of us peering inside.

It's a nice little cafe, with green walls and booths placed against them, red and white chequered tablecloths placed on the square tables placed throughout the rest of the cafe. A counter is in the far corner, where I assume employers take customer orders and start to prepare the food before then going through the silver door behind them where I think that the kitchen is, to finish preparing the food.

It's from this door that a small, elderly man wearing a green and white uniform appears from, not looking up at Bruce and me at the door, but instead in the small notebook in his hand. He has a white moustache and white tuffs of hair on the back and sides of his head, leaving his front and top end bald and shining from the light.

"Sorry, but we're closed on Mondays," the man who I presume is Stan calls out in a thick, Italian accent. "Come back tomorrow."

"Stan," Bruce calls out, once again banging on the glass, causing Stan to look up in surprise. His eyes skim over me as they fall on Bruce, surprise and happiness fill his face. He quickly rushes over to the door and unlocks the lock before flinging it open and pulling Bruce into a tight hug.

"I knew you would come back!" Stan exclaims happily, as Bruce returns the hug too. "I knew you would!"

"It's good to see you too Stan," Bruce replies, a genuinely happy and warm smile plastered to his face, one that makes myself smile at the sight.

"Where have you been?" Stan questions, pulling back to look up at Bruce. "Why did you run? Does Betty know you're back?"

"It's a really long story, Stan," Bruce replies, a tiredness to his tone now. "One that I'm going to explain to you if you let me. But there's someone I want you to meet," he says, stepping away to let me become face to face with Stan.

"Stanley, this is Lydia Hathaway- she's a cousin of mine," Bruce explains. "Lydia, this is Stanley, someone who I've known for a long time- we can trust him."

"It's nice to meet you," I reply, smiling warmly at the man in front of me.

"The pleasure is all mine," Stan replies kindly.

"We're sorry to barge in on you like this-" Bruce starts to say.

"Oh, you are welcome here any time Bruce," Stan says, promptly cutting Bruce off mid-sentence. "And anyone one who is family or a friend to Bruce is a friend of mine too," Stan adds turning to me. "Now. Come out back. I was just making some pizza- you must be hungry."

"Starved," Bruce admits, causing Stan and I to grin before the three of us head towards the kitchen door.


	7. Chapter 6: Plan B

I have had some pretty good pizzas throughout my life. But it only took me having one piece of Stan's mouthwatering pizza to convince me that his were simply the best. They were literally heaven on a plate: and something told me from the amused smile on Stan's face as he watched Bruce and I quickly eat, that he knew we were enjoying it.

He had insisted on serving us more food than we could possibly eat, though he had been quick to shut down any protests that Bruce or I made about having too much food. He had taken one look at Bruce's lanky frame and frowned, before he had taken off towards the kitchen and whipped up what could be considered a buffet, of pizza, pasta- practically everything that he had. It as far too much, but Bruce and I had been hungry so we had eventually given up trying to convince Stan otherwise.

While we ate, Bruce answered as many questions of Stan's that he could. I sat there quietly and listened, only offering some input when Bruce told him about Rocinha and how we had made it back here to Willowdale in the past couple of weeks. And Stan, for the most part, sat across from us and silently listened. Occasionally he would make some form of startled noise at something that Bruce said. Otherwise, he would just sit there quietly, his eyes increasingly widening as Bruce told him everything.

"Stan, I give you my word, whatever you've heard about me isn't true," Bruce now finishes, a hint of desperation in his tone as he tried to convince his friend of his innocence.

It appears that he had nothing to worry about, however, as Stan only waves Bruce's words off dismissively. "Oh, I never believed it," he informs the scientist beside me, who lets out a sigh of relief in response. "I always knew you were a good man Bruce, and there's nothing that could convince me otherwise. It's why I liked you and Betty so much. I mean, you know how I always felt about you."

I feel Bruce stiffen in his chair beside me at the mention of Betty's name, his mind obviously lingering on what he had seen earlier today at the Culver campus. "She's with someone?" He asks quietly.

Stan easily picks up on his miserable tone and I watch as his mouth tugs down into a sympathetic frown in response. "Yes," He admits reluctantly. "He's a head shrink- they say he's one of the best. Have you talked to her?"

"She doesn't know that we're here," I explain. "But she has something important. And we need to get it off her."

"Why do you need something of hers?"

"To help me be a free man again," Bruce replies, causing Stan's eyes to widen at his choice of words. "Look, I'm not a fan of sneaking into Betty's lab myself, but it's the only way we can get what we need without drawing unwanted attention."

"It's not going to be easy though. Not when there's security crawling around campus," I add. "The only way that we can get into the building is by showing them a student card."

Stan leans forward in his seat at my words. "I want to help the two of you," he informs us eagerly. "So tell me how, and I will do so."

"Would you mind letting us stay here for a night or two?" Bruce asks.

"Of course! It would be lovely to have some company again- you can each have one of the spare rooms upstairs."

"Thank you so much, Stan. I can even help out when I have some free time if you would like me too. I've had experience, and it's the least that I can do," I offer.

His wrinkled eyes flicker between Bruce and me across from him at this, a small smile creeping onto his face as he did so. "Always willing to lend a helping hand, hm? You are really related to Bruce then," He muses. "You do not have to worry, Lydia. You may stay here for as long as you want, and you do do not have to worry about working here. Any friend or relative of Bruce's is a friend of mine. But I still feel as if there is more that I can do to help you with. Surely there is a way for the two of you to get into the campus."

"You don't by any chance happen to have any ideas about how we could achieve that, do you?" Bruce asks hopefully.

Stan thinks to himself for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't know how you could get past security without the cards. I mean, my workers go in for deliveries occasionally, but I don't see how they could help you get what you need!" He explains, gesturing towards the corner of the kitchen where a few uniform jackets hung from the wall.

"Actually, Stan," I reply slowly, an idea popping into my head at Stan's words and as I look at the uniforms that he was indicating to. With a small working, it's way onto my face, I inform him happily, "I think that you can."

* * *

"I feel stupid."

"You look fine."

"I don't care how I look. I just _feel_ stupid."

"I take it this is the first time that you've done something like this?"

"Pretty much. Though judging from how relaxed you are, this clearly isn't unfamiliar territory for you."

"I'm a spy. Blending in and using different aliases is sometimes what I have to do."

"Well, I still feel stupid."

"It's not even that bad Bruce," I reply, straightening up from where I had crouched on the ground so that I could put on the bike lock for the bike that Stan had lent me. Quickly readjusting the bright, red _Stanley's_ pizza cap on my head, I lean forward and grab the boxes of pizza from the basked on the front of the bike. "Just pretend that you're a spy. It'll make it more fun."

"I'm already pretending to be a pizza delivery guy, so enough pretending for one day," Bruce mutters dryly, also grabbing his pizzas from the basket on the front of his bike.

"You can't even say it wasn't a good idea," I reply as we start to make our way to the front of the university. "Pretending to be delivery guys is perfect, alright? We can get in and out and no one is going to suspect a thing. And we even have spare pizza to ear afterwards. I'd say that's a win-win for us."

"That's only if the security guard believes the lie," Bruce replies, clearly still rather sceptical of the plan. The way that he kept wringing his free hand beside him also indicated to me that he was clearly on edge, worrying about the possibility of being caught. If he wanted to ensure that that didn't happen, then he was going to have to calm down: freaking out was only going to draw unwanted attention to the two of us.

"Then we work our charms until he has no choice but to let us into the building. Either that or I can electrocute him if I get close enough," I reply lightly, attempting to ease some of the worry that my cousin was still clearly feeling. But when he only offers me a half-hearted smile, I continue gently, "Relax, Bruce. This is going to work. Just have a little bit of faith."

The grim expression remains on his face as he nods, though he doesn't say anything in response.

We continue silently towards the front of the campus, a few students here and there around us. But considering that some classes were on now, the grounds of the campus were much quieter than it had been yesterday.

Taking a deep breath, I push the door to the front entrance open and hold it open with my foot, allowing Bruce to enter the building first before I then follow suit, letting the door shut behind me. I follow after him as he leads me towards the front office of the security guard, who I notice was different to the one that had been working yesterday. With no students in sight, he was leaning back in his chair and reading a newspaper in his hands, his brown eyes following the words on the page. Hopefully, he would be more agreeable than the guard yesterday was.

Bruce is first to stop in front of the open window, clearing his throat to alert the man of our presence. "Hey pal," He tries to say in an easygoing tone, though even I can detect the slight shake to it. "We've got a delivery for room five."

The guard finally tears his gaze from the paper in front of him to Bruce and me, a sceptical expression forming on his face as he listens to Bruce. He studies us momentarily before he then shakes his head, his brown curls shaking along with him. "I don't think that you have anyone up there."

Bruce swallows thickly at this and doesn't say anything, clearly lost for words. Deciding that something had to be done in order to get the two of us up there, I take a small step forward and shake my head with dismay. Allowing my face to scrunch up in worry, I reply, "Ah man. We're gonna catch hell from our boss if we don't collect. Can you at least let us try?" I ask, resisting the urge to turn and see the surprised look that I knew that Bruce was shooting me from underneath his cap.

Instead, I keep my eyes fixed on the guard in front of us, his brows creasing as he considers my words. The sceptical look on his face makes it seem that our chances of sneaking into the dorm were quickly diminishing, so thinking quickly, I shift the boxes into my right hand before removing the top one with my left and holding it out to him. "Look. I just realised that we have an extra medium. Why don't you take it? On the house?"

The security guard doesn't lose the sceptical look as he stands up from his seat and it's just then I realise how tall he was. He was well and truly over six-feet, a giant compared to my own five foot six self. Despite his intimidating stance though, I manage to keep a straight face. On the inside, however, I was panicking ever so slightly. Maybe the idea of electrocuting him wasn't so bad after all...

He only reaches forward and pries the box from my outstretched hand, opening the lid and peering down at the pizza in the box, before he then glances back up at Bruce and I. We both don't dare say anything and I find myself holding in a nervous breath as we waited for the guard to say something.

He doesn't speak though. He only suddenly smiles before he nods his head up towards the stairs to the right of us.

I exhale in relief, though it's for an entirely different reason than what he must think it is. "You are the man," I reply before I then hold up my clenched fist so that he could bump his own against mine. Bruce does the same beside me, though he wore an awkward smile on his face as he did so.

"God bless you brothers!" the guard responds before he then settles back down in his chair, a content smile on his face. Bruce and I only respond with a wave before we then walk off, leaving the man to eat his pizza in peace.

We both remain quiet until the sounds of the guard munching away on his food disappear entirely. It's Bruce who is the first to break the silence, as he murmurs, "Well, I think he'll be occupied for a bit."

"That he will," I half whisper back as we move towards the elevator next to the stairs. "Good work...and God bless you brother."

He snorts at the reference before the two of us then move into the tiny space, pressing the button that would take us to the right floor. The first part of the trip is filled with a comfortable silence, though I kept a close watch on Bruce from the corner of my eye. Despite the fact that the two of us had managed to work our way past the security guard, he still seemed nervous. He was no longer wringing his hand in an obvious way, but instead was tapping his fingers against the side of his thighs while his others gripped the pizza boxes in his hand so tightly, that his knuckles appeared white against his skin.

He was still on edge. And something told me it had more to do with something else, rather than the security guard floors below us.

"You OK Bruce?" I ask, breaking the silence. "You seem kinda...on edge."

He doesn't turn to look at me fully but instead glances at me from the corner of his eye. "It's just...strange, being back here is all," he admits quietly. "I've spent the past couple of years thinking that I wouldn't have the opportunity to come back. But here I am, heading up to my old lab in the same elevator that I used to take: just like old times."

"Well, you do realise that if Mr Blue can figure out a cure, you could be doing this every day for the rest of your life? You could go back to being a regular man and get your old life back."

"To some extent."

"To some extent," I agree. "I mean, you'd have to find a way to tell Ross that you're no longer a threat. And that he can't extract the Hulk from you and turn it into a weapon."

"Easier said than done," Bruce mutters to himself darkly.

"But you could have Betty back," I point out, continuing as if he hadn't spoken. "I mean, you wouldn't have to worry about hurting her again."

"She's with someone else Lydia."

"So? I bet you're ten times better than...whatever the hell his name is," I argue as a ringing noise fills the elevator as it comes to a stop and the doors slide open to let us pass them and enter the correct floor. "Not to mention, you're a scientist. A very smart one at that. Yes, he's apparently one of the best head shrinks around but girls dig scientists a lot more than they do head shrinks," I add lightly, trying to lighten his dark mood as much as possible.

It doesn't work as much as I hoped it would, but he does shoot me a small smile of gratitude as we walk down a long, white corridor with blue doors on the walls on either side of us that lead to offices, cleaning closets and storage rooms.

We walk until the end of the first one before taking a right and then a left before Bruce slows down. I turn to question Bruce on the sudden pause of movement to see that he stood frozen in place, his eyes fixed on a large glass-walled room to our left, filled with rows of computers on wooden desks and shelves filled with small machinery that were either a part of the computers below them or were different objects all together. Notice boards were stuck on walls, slips of paper with neat handwriting or scribbles on them, some overlapping others. There were framed photos on the desks, clearly of the loved ones that belonged to the particular owner of each desk. There was even a lanky man with dark hair and broad-brimmed glasses seated at his desk, hunched over as his fingers tapped away on the keyboard in front of him. It looked like a regular office space to me, but the look on Bruce's face said something else entirely.

His face was pale and there were small beads of sweat staining his forehead just below his hairline as he stared at the space, not even blinking. Each breath that he inhaled and exhaled were short and he had a look of absolute fear and panic glued to his face, that only intensified the longer that he stared.

"Bruce?" I question, worry lacing my voice though I am only to be ignored by my cousin. It was as if he was somewhere else, rather than standing right beside me.

Confused and slightly worried, I step forward in his line of view and stand on the tips of my toes to block the room from his sight. But this changes nothing. "Bruce?" I ask again. "What's wrong" I add before reaching out with my hand to shake him gently.

My hand never makes contact with his though. Just before my fingers even get the chance to brush against the surface of his uniform, Bruce flinches back as if I've burned him, gasping loudly as he does so while his hands come up protectively towards his chest, dropping the pizza boxes in the process. The look of terror on his face was enough to make me flinch back: he looked like a cornered rabbit, cowering in front of a fox. Confusion continued to sweep over me as I narrowed my eyes in thought as I tried to think of the cause of Bruce's sudden fear. He had been fine until he had seen the office...

The office.

I turn back around to look through the glass walls, my eyes skimming over every object in the room in hopes of finding something that would explain Bruce's sudden episode. After thinking and finding nothing, I turn back to a still terrified Bruce, though he had visibly calmed down a little, his breathing back to normal.

I place the pizza boxes at my feet before then straightening up where I then hold my hands up in front of me, palms facing him to show him that I wasn't going to hurt him. "Bruce, it's me. Lydia. Your cousin? I don't know what just happened but you need to know you're safe here with me. OK? We're safe. You're safe," I say soothingly.

He nods much to my surprise, slowly lowering his own hands back to his side, causing me to do the same. He then tilts his head back slightly and takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes, mumbling something underneath his breath. It was too quiet for me to discern exactly what he was saying, but I believe that it sounded like he was slowly counting to ten. He then reopens his eyes, sighs and lowers his head so that his eyes lock with mine.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles, raking a hand through his dark hair.

"Don't be sorry."

"I just saw the lab and something...it was like...I was..it- it was like I was reliving that moment again," he explains quietly, jerking his head to the lab behind me.

"Panic attack," I conclude, watching as he flinches at the two words. "That's nothing to be sorry for. You can't help it. So if it happens again, you don't say sorry to me OK?" When he nods, I ask, "Are you OK?"

"I am now. I kept control of my heart."

I shoot him a pointed look at this. "I wasn't asking whether or not you prevented the Hulk, Bruce," I replied gently. "I was asking if you were OK."

He nods his head slowly, taking a deep breath before replying, "I am now. Thank you."

I only smile and reach up with my hand to give him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. "Any time. But look, Bruce. You don't have to go in if you don't want to. You can always wait out here and I can go in and transfer the data onto the USB-"

He's shaking his head before I can even finish my suggestion. "I uh, I appreciate the concern, Lydia. But I'll be fine."

I open my mouth to argue that he may still need a moment or two to process everything, though the look of determination that he wore on his face had the words dying in my throat. Judging from his expression, I knew that even if I attempted to convince him of doing otherwise, he was going to walk into that lab regardless. So instead, I only offer him a small smile of encouragement. "If you're sure," I reply before we then simultaneously lean down and pick up the pizza boxed in our hands. Once we have a secure grip on them, we turn once more and open the door of the lab before we then walk in.

I step to the side to allow Bruce to lead the way, seeing as he would most likely know which of the dozens of computers surrounding us would be Betty's. I watch him carefully, my eyes scanning him to see if there were any signs of another flashback. But besides still looking slightly paler than usual, nothing about him seemed to out of the ordinary at the moment.

We wandered down the rows of computers slowly for about ten minutes, Bruce staring hard at each screen before turning to another one to do the exact same. After about the thirtieth computer, however, Bruce turns to me and declares glumly, "I have no clue which one is hers. These computers are different from the ones we used to use."

I huff in frustration at his words. "Figures. It would make sense they would go for a technology upgrade if their last computers were destroyed. They would have had to rebuild after what happened here."

Bruce sighs too, before glancing around, his eyes landing on the man still seated at his desk in front of his computer in the far corner of the room. We had yet to check the computers on that side, so up until now, we hadn't realised that we weren't the only two people in the room. Bruce nods his head at the man, before then murmuring, "Maybe he knows which one it is."

I nod in agreement. "Well, it's worth a shot," I reply before Bruce and I then slowly walk towards the man.

Once we arrive at his desk, his fingers pause tapping the keys on the keyboard before he then looks up at us through his broad-brimmed glasses, confusion etched onto his face. "Can I help you?" he asks.

I put on a smile and reply cheerily, "Hi. We were wondering which one of these computers is Betty Ross'? I'm her cousin and she asked me to download a movie file from it."

"Why do you have pizza boxes then?"

My smile doesn't slip in the slightest as he words, as my mind already forms an excuse in my head. "My partner Jack here and I were already delivering some pizza in this building when she called me and asked," I say, the lie rolling off my tongue easily. "She told me where the lab was and I realised it was on the way to the room where delivering too, so I thought we'd pick it up in the way for her."

The man nods his head slowly, looking down slightly as he thinks to himself for a moment when Bruce suddenly speaks up from beside me.

"Hey Ava, is that an extra pizza you have there?" he asks, nodding his head to the pizza boxes in my hand.

Immediately catching on to what he was suggesting I quickly put the weight of the pizza boxes on my right arm and use my left to reach for the pizza on the top, nodding my head as I do so. "You're right Jack- so it is. Here man," I added, leaning down and placing the pizza box on the empty space on the man's desk directly in front of him, his eyes widening at the movement. He stares at the pizza box momentarily before he then raises himself slightly of his chair to raise his arm and point to a computer in front of him, three rows away.

"That's Dr Ross' computer there," he informs us. "Let me know if you need any help in finding the file."

"We should be right, but thanks anyway," I respond before the man sits back down and nods at us as Bruce and I then start to walk towards the computer that the man had said was Betty's.

Bruce sits down in the chair in front of her computer while I grab the one from the next desk over and bring it so that I can sit next to Bruce and watch him download the file. He turns on the computer and we wait patiently for it to load, before the lock screen appears on the screen, requesting a username and password for us to access the rest of Betty's computer.

"Do you know the password?" I mutter quietly to Bruce as he types in 'Dr Elizabeth Ross' into the username slot.

He nods his head slowly. "I think so. She uses the same password for everything- there shouldn't be a reason why she wouldn't do the same for her computer," he mutters in response before then typing letters into the password slot and hitting the enter key, which to my relief works as the lock screen disappears and is instead replaced with the desktop.

"And we're in," I mutter as Bruce then opens up a file underneath the name of 'Campus Research Data Base'.

"This will make finding the data easier," Bruce informs me, typing in 'Gamma Pulse' into the search bar before then promptly clicking on the search button. The screen is then filled with blurred words as the computer searches through thousands of files that could be even remotely close to the words 'gamma' and 'pulse'. You could imagine our surprise though when suddenly all of the words of the searched files disappear and a large flashing notification with bold letters reading 'NO MATCH FOUND;' appears in the very middle of the screen.

"What the hell?" I breathe in confusion as Bruce shakes his head, clearly just as confused as I was at our result.

"No, no no," He mutters. "It should be here."

"Try typing in something else related to the project," I suggest. He nods and types in his own name in the search bar but only to have the same unwanted result.

"It's not here," he mutters hopelessly.

"They must've deleted the file," I mumble sadly. "Trying to cover their tracks."

"Without the data, Mr Blue may not be able to do anything."

"Ask him first before we jump to that conclusion," I reply, not liking where this conversation was heading. "There could be something else that he could do instead. Maybe he's thought of something else that doesn't require the data."

He nods before quickly exiting the file and instead clicks on another that happens to be Betty's desktop.

"Ecryptnet?" I question out loud, shooting Bruce a curious look. "What are you doing?"

"Encryptnet is how I talk with Mr Blue," Bruce informs me as he logs in his details into the login slots, before then quickly sending a message to 'Mr Blue,' whose response is almost immediate.

 **Mr Green! How goes the search?**

Bruce sighs before then quickly typing his own response, myself reading it over his shoulder as he types.

 _The data is gone._

 **Without it...I cannot help.**

I felt my heart sink at the new message from Mr Blue. So that was it? There was no helping Bruce without the data? I shook my head slightly as I realised that it then meant that Bruce was stuck with the Hulk in him for the rest of his life while he lived his life on the run from Ross, who was no doubt still attempting to hunt him down right now as we sat in this lab.

I look at Bruce out of the corner of my eye to see him slumped over slightly in defeat, a look of absolute devastation on his face as he too takes in the words on the screen in front of us. I reach out with my hand to give him a gentle squeeze on his shoulder, hoping that the small gesture may offer him some sort of comfort. He lets out a shaky breath and lifts his head up so that he could look directly at me. He gives me a grateful, yet tired smile before our attention is then returned to the computer in front of us as a new message from Mr Blue appears, the message similar as to what I had just been thinking.

 **So what now?**

Bruce sighs and sits up straight again, his hands reaching forward to type his response into the computer, a response that I wasn't exactly fond of.

 _I've got to keep moving._

* * *

After finding out that there was nothing left for us to do in helping Bruce find a cure, we had quickly left the university and walked to the nearest park that we could find so that we could eat the pizza we had leftover for lunch underneath the warmth of the sun.

We had sat at a picnic table, the two of us eating in silence as we got lost in our own thoughts. My eyes kept flickering to Bruce worriedly though, studying him carefully to see how he was dealing with the fact of him knowing that he was most likely going to live the lifestyle he was living now for the rest of his life. Every time I had asked him how was though, he had merely shrugged in response and replied quietly with 'I'm fine' every time. Trying to have any conversation with him was futile as well, as he every one of my attempt to do so, ended with him gently rebuffing it.

I couldn't blame him though. After everything that he had been through, it had led him to put all of his hope and faith into the one chance we had of finding him a cure. As we discussed, he could have gone back to living his old life once again, connecting with his family and loved ones that he was forced to leave behind. But all because of the missing data, the one crucial part in our plan that we most desperately needed to carry it out, no longer existed. The plan couldn't be continued out and Bruce lost hope as the plan fell out from beneath us.

We had arrived back at Stan's in the early evening to find that the restaurant was flat out busy. I had offered my services to a grateful Stan who accepted them while Bruce had declared that he was tired and if it were OK with Stan, would like to use the spare bedroom to have a nap. Stan had seen the looks on our faces when we had first walked through the back door and had guessed without having to ask that we hadn't got what we were after. So he had assured Bruce that he could stay and do whatever he wanted and had told him if he needed anything that he should only ask. Bruce had simply nodded and thanked him, before slowly making his way up the stairs.

Hours had passed since we had returned and now Stan was about to close the shop. I was stacking up the glasses that had been left on the table when the front door of the restaurant opened, followed by the sound of a male and female laughing. The sound instantly causes me to turn around and greet them, though the moment that I saw who it was, I turn back around quicker than lightning.

Betty and her boyfriend.

 _Shit._

At the sight of them, I see Stan's eyes land briefly on me from the corner of my eyes, the same look of panic that he wore on his face resembling the one that I probably wore as well. He licks his lips nervously before he then works a false, bright smile on his face as he calls out to the laughing couple, "We're pretty much closed, kids."

That doesn't stop the two of them though, as Betty leads her partner towards the counter with a smile on her face. "Aww, c'mon Stan! It's Friday night!" She protests happily as she sits down in one of the counter chairs.

"Ah kids, I only have Margarita left," Stan weakly protests.

"Oh, I got to have a Mister Pink please," Betty playfully pleads.

The man beside her chuckles and looking at Stan explains, "She worked through dinner again, of course."

Stan casts me one more brief look before then looking out through the door that leads out back, clearly thinking of what was to happen if Bruce were to walk out into the diner and for Betty to see him. But when I offer him no solution, he throws his hands up in defeat and turns back to me, calling out, "Lydia, would you help me out in serving these two kids here?"

I simply nod and make my way towards him, my eyes locking with Betty's briefly as she shoots me a curious look as I make my way around the counter.

"I didn't realize that you were hiring more staff Stan," She says kindly, her eyes still on me.

Stan looks between the two of us, wide-eyed before quickly replying, "Oh, uh, Betty, this is my niece's friend, Lydia. She's uh, helping me out for a couple of days with the diner. Lydia, this is Betty Ross, an old time customer of mine."

"Nice to meet you," she says cheerily, her eyes sparkling with warmth.

"You too."

"I'm Samson," the male sitting beside her adds, holding his hand out for me to shake. "Nice to meet you too."

"Likewise," I reply, taking his hand with my own, shaking it twice before dropping it, though he flexes his fingers once I do.

"Quite a grip there," he says, chuckling slightly as he stares down at his slightly reddening hand.

"I uh, work out a lot," I half lie, before I then walk over to Stan and begin to prepare the ingredients for the pizza, leaving Betty and Samson to start their own conversation.

Stan and I chop and slice quietly for the first few moments before he mutters quietly, loud enough though for me to hear but not Betty and Samson, "I'm sorry I couldn't get them to leave."

"Don't stress Stan," I mutter in a voice barely above a whisper. "Bruce should be asleep anyway. Once their pizza's in, I'll go up and wake him up and warn him not to come down until they're gone."

"Oh my God," I hear Betty gasp in shock from behind me, causing me to whirl around so that I stood, facing the couple again. I'm surprised to see Betty standing up in from her seat, her face pale and jaw slacks leaving her mouth hanging open in surprise as she stared at something beyond Samson towards the back of the shop. I turn towards where she's looking though I should have guessed what she had seen from the moment that Betty had gasped. She looked as if she had seen a ghost.

Bruce.

He looks just as shocked as she does, his mouth parted and eyes wide as he stared at his former girlfriend in front of him. This had been the first time that the two of them had seen each other for years, and I knew it was far from the reunion that they both would have hoped for. But it appears they didn't get a say in the matter, as they were no confronted with one another, both of them having yet to say something.

I'm about to break the silence, though I immediately clamp my mouth shut at the sight of the bag in Bruce's hands, the bulkiness of it indicating to me that it was full to the brim of his belongings. I can't help but narrow my eyes at the sight, concluding that he planned on going somewhere. He was most likely leaving and had come down to tell Stan and me goodbye.

I would have liked to have thought that this wasn't the case though. That he was coming down here to ask for me to pack my things as well. But when I look up and see the guilt seeping onto his face as our gazes locked, I knew that this wasn't true.

But before either I or Betty could say anything, he turns and flees through the kitchen door once more.

" _Shit!"_ I can't help but exclaim at the sight of his retreating figure, only slamming my hand on my mouth when I realise my mistake. Betty instantly whirls on me, her eyes narrow in both confusion and suspicion before she then takes after Bruce, calling for him as she ran.

Samson pulls himself to his feet and calls after her, though Betty either simply ignores him or doesn't hear him as she only continues to move after my cousin. When she disappears from sight, he whirls to face Stan and demands to know what on earth was going on and who Bruce was. I don't pay attention to Stan's answers though, as I suddenly find myself racing out the back of the shop and up the stairs towards the room that Stan had let me stay in.

If Bruce was leaving, then so was I. I'd be damned if I let him run off without saying goodbye, or leaving anyway of contacting me.

Thankfully I hadn't properly unpacked yet, so it was simply a case of quickly shoving everything that had been taken from my bag back into it once more before racing down the steps. But as I burst through the door and into the restaurant itself, something- or _someone_ , I should say- instantly had me halting in my tracks.

"You," Betty snaps almost accusingly from where she stands beside a still confused Samson, her dark hair wet and clinging to the back of her neck which lead me to believe that it was raining outside.

"You knew who he was," She continues before she then turns her attention to a sad Stan five feet away from me. "And you. Tell me if I think I saw what I just saw," She begs angrily, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"Betty..." Stan starts to say.

"Yes. That was Bruce Banner that you just saw," I say evenly, staring her straight in the eye as I spoke.

She gasps at my words and shakes her head, her tears falling faster now. "After all this time," she whispers, looking even paler than she had moments before. "He finally comes back?"

"He needed too," I inform her quickly, knowing that the longer that I stood here and discussed this with her, the further that Bruce was going to get. I had to leave to find him and I had to do so right now. "He's been wanting to come back for a long time now. But he couldn't."

"How do you know?" She demands, taking another step forward. "How do you know him? Who are you?"

"My name is Lydia Hathaway," I say quickly. "Bruce is my cousin. And unless I leave right now to go after him, chances are neither of us are ever going to see him again. Because he's leaving and this time, he won't come back."

* * *

"He never told me that he had a cousin," Betty informs me quietly from where she sits in the driver's seat of the car beside me.

It's been half an hour since Bruce had fled the diner and I had told Betty that it was Bruce that she had just seen. Almost immediately after I had told her that he may never come back, she had demanded that she come along with me to help find him.

At first, I had protested. I didn't want to pressure Bruce into a situation which would force him to reunite with her in a way that wasn't similar to the one they had had earlier if I could avoid it. A part of me didn't know whether Bruce was ready to face her after all these years.

But then I had looked at things realistically: she had a car. And she knew this town far better than I did. Using the car would be the best and fastest chance that we had of finding Bruce, and it was still pouring down rain outside. The car would not only provide me cover but Bruce as well, who was no doubt wandering around in soaked clothes. So I had quickly given into her request before the two of us had left, myself thanking Stan for his hospitality over the past twenty-four hours, and promising to call him if and when we found Bruce.

Samson had been quick to suggest that he come along as well, though Betty had both quickly and kindly rejected that idea. She didn't want Bruce to feel too overwhelmed with too many people around him and had simply promised to call Samson to let him know how things went before we had dashed outside of the store. And while I didn't voice it out loud to her, I had a feeling that the real reason that she didn't want Samson to help us look for Bruce, was simply because she didn't want to have the two of them properly meeting one another just yet.

After forty minutes of driving through the streets searching for him, our hopes of finding him were quickly diminishing. To distract us from these unwanted thoughts, however, I had spent the time trying to explain to Betty how and why we were in Willowdale. But in doing so, I had tried to leave anything related to the Hulk out of it. It was Bruce's secret to share after all: not mine.

"I mean, I knew he was an only child and all," she now continues. "But he never really said anything about his extended family."

"Well, my Mom didn't find out until later in her life too," I say, looking out the passenger window for any sign of Bruce as I speak. "Technically, we're third cousins though..."

"Why didn't he tell me he was back?" she demands, though she doesn't do so harshly. She's not angry at all, she's more just...confused, I think would be the correct word to use. And maybe still a little stunned.

"He saw you had a life. He saw you with Samson and realised that you had moved on. He didn't want to ruin what happiness you have now by showing up in your life again after all of these years," I explain, my heart clenching with sympathy for my cousin even though he wasn't even here in the car with us.

"I never really moved on," she admits quietly before she started to drive us over a long bridge, the rain pelting down on the water below us. "He was the first man I ever had a serious relationship with. The first I ever really loved."

"Not exactly something that you get over quickly," I agree, resting my head back against the headrest of the seat.

"Why did he run?"

"It's not up to me to tell you that. Bruce will hopefully explain everything if- _when_ , we find him. It's too complicated for me to explain properly anyway," I reply firmly, my eyes narrowing as a figure in the distance walks along the bridge. I assume it's a man from the build and height as he walks, holding up his thumbs to passing cars, indicating he wanted a ride.

"Speed up a little?" I say to Betty, lifting my hand up to point to the figure that was getting closer by the second.

"It's him!" She exclaims as she drives closer before slamming on the breaks and quickly undoing her seat belt, leaving the car running. I do the same and the two of us open the car doors before we rush out, myself holding up my hand to create an invisible air barrier above the car to stop the falling water from saturating us.

The figure turns around as the headlights shine directly on him, and sure enough its Bruce. He looks at the two of us in surprise but it doesn't last long as Betty quickly runs from beside the car and straight into his arms, sobbing as she did so.

He's quick to wrap his own arms around her, burying his neck into the crook of her shoulder and neck, squeezing his eyes shut as he held her against him. The two of them clasp tightly to one another and murmur quick words into the other's ears, though I was standing too far away to be able to hear exactly what it was they were saying. Not that it was any of my business anyway.

I watch them fondly, deciding to let the two of them have their moment for a just a little bit longer before I then take in the sight of how their clothes were dripping wet, droplets of water falling from their faces-though I couldn't tell from this far away whether they were tears, or simply raindrops.

Not particularly wanting either of them to come down with a cold by standing in the rain in their freezing clothes for much longer, I bring my fingers to my mouth before I then whistle loudly, the sudden noise causing for the two of them to part slightly from one another and turn to face me, where I still stood beside Betty's car.

"C'mon!" I call out to them. "You guys are soaking wet."

Bruce quickly nods his head and, with his arms still clasped around a wet and now shivering Betty, starts to lead her closed towards her car. As the two of them draw closer, however, I'm surprised to see that Betty was staring at me with a look of shock on her face, the sight causing for me to narrow my eyes in confusion. But before I even get the chance to ask her if everything was alright, she raises a shaky hand and points to my own outstretched one, still above my head and creating an air barrier to prevent myself from getting wet.

Ah. That explains the shocked expression on her face.

"How-how, h-how are y-you doing, th-that?" She asks, her teeth chattering as she spoke, causing her to repeat some of her words.

Bruce and exchange a look at this, though Bruce only offers me a simple shrug of his shoulders, pulling the still shivering Betty closer towards him in an attempt to keep her warm.

It appears that I would be telling Betty then about my abilities, though I knew that now wasn't the time or place to do so, not when it was a long story to explain and the three of us were still standing in the middle of the rain. So I reply with, "Look, it's a long story, and I'm happy to explain it to you. But not out here in the middle of the rain. So let's get somewhere warm, and somewhere dry first, OK?"


	8. Chapter 7: We're Family

Though it wasn't agreed on or voiced by either Bruce, Betty or myself as we sat there in the car, Betty drove us straight from the bridge to her house, where we arrived there ten minutes after the two of them had reunited on the bridge. Already I could tell just by looking at the exterior of it that it was a grand but seemingly cozy home, with stories and a spacious front porch.

For the entire car ride I had sat in the back seat in silence, listening to Bruce as he tried his best to explain to Betty why it was that he went on the run in the first place, without mentioning the fact that whenever his pulse reached a certain point he turned into a towering, angry green creature. I had initially been surprised that he hadn't told her the entire truth, though I knew better than to reveal it to her now. It wasn't exactly my secret to share, and I had a feeling that telling her would only cause her to freak out.

Bruce had informed her that her father was part of the reason that he went on the run in the first place though, but Betty didn't seem surprised to hear this. Apparently, she had known this almost from the beginning, having confronted her father when she had first woken up in the hospital. According to her, the two of them haven't spoken a word to each other since, much to Ross' dismay. But Betty had made it abundantly clear to him that she wouldn't speak to him again until he lifted the manhunt off from Bruce.

When we had pulled up in front of the house, the three of us had quickly exited the car with our belongings in our hands, making a mad dash towards the front porch where we would be sheltered from the rain. I hadn't bothered to create a shield with the air to protect us from the rain as it poured down from above like I had when I had watched Betty rush to Bruce. But that didn't stop Betty from curiously staring at me as we went, as if she expected me to do so again.

She had quickly ushered us inside, where the house was just as grand on the inside as it was on the out. If I were to be quite honest, I couldn't help but think that it was far too large for a single person to live in, with Betty informing us that there were four bedrooms and two bathrooms. I had only smiled gratefully at this though, as I realised that tonight's sleeping conditions were going to be great compared to the ones that Bruce and I had had to endure in the past few weeks.

Betty had quickly made Bruce and I crouch down in front of the fireplace in the living room, before she then declared that she would go and get us something to drink. As she left, I couldn't help but notice the way that Bruce was violently shivering beside me, clearly chilled to the bone. Noticing that there were logs staked in the fireplace and practically waiting to be burned, I wordlessly lift my hand and create a small fireball before throwing it directly into the fireplace.

Bruce sent me a grateful smile as the logs were consequently engulfed in the flames. "Thanks."

"No problem," I reply, just as Betty returned to the room. In her hand, she carried a small box of matches, but at the sight of the flourishing fire in front of Bruce and I, they slip from her hands. She makes no move to bend down and retrieve them though, and instead only makes a small noise of surprise.

"I was going to light the fire for you," She whispers weakly, the reflection of the orange flames dancing in her wide eyes.

Bruce and I exchange slightly amused looks at her shock, our lips tugging up into wry smiles. "I think we've got it covered," I reply, diverting my gaze back up to the brunette once more.

Forgetting all about the matches together and the faint sound of the kettle boiling in the kitchen, she slowly sinks down into the closest, cream-coloured couch. "How?" She asks in an almost child-like voice, her eyes glued to the flames flickering in the space behind Bruce and me.

The smile slips from my face at this, knowing that to answer her question, I was going to have to delve into a personal territory that I tried to regularly block from my mind. But I knew that I was going to have to tell her. She was a scientist: curiosity was in her nature. And I had promised that I would explain everything once we were out of the rain, which was still pelting down on the roof above us. Even if I didn't give her the full story, I could provide her with some details at least, if not the basic ones.

"I can control the elements," I explain. "I was experimented on and this was the result."

She only blinks. "OK," She says slowly, as if unsure whether or not to believe me. But when she turns to Bruce for confirmation and sees the serious expression that was glued to his face, she turns back to face me once more.

"Which company did this to you?" She asks in a surprisingly steady voice.

"I don't know."

"It wasn't a scientist by the name of Dr Helen Cho, was it?"

"I don't know," I repeat. "I don't know who did this to me."

"How did they do it?" She asks, suddenly growing excited. "I mean, people throughout generations have theorised that humans of high intellect could do such things but...to actually have a human control them?"

I _t's best not to move, subject 207. It won't do you any good._

 _Aching, throbbing, stinging,_ **pain-**

 _'Please stop-'_

 _My name...is Lydia Hathaway_

 _Screams echoing off the walls-_

 _Again._

"Betty," Bruce says warningly, dragging me from the memories that had started to fill my mind faster than I could block them. Blinking my eyes a few times, I see him shooting Betty a warning look from the corner of my eyes, which seemed to silently tell her to drop the conversation.

The excitement dies from Betty's face as she turns her attention back to me. Something must register on my face that I wasn't comfortable where this conversation was leading to, as her shoulders sag and she sends me a guilt-ridden look. "I'm sorry," she murmurs. "I didn't mean to be nosy."

"It's fine," Is all I can murmur in response. "I just don't like talking about it that much."

She sends me another apologetic look as a silence descends on us at my words, though it's soon broken by Bruce as he attempts to keep the conversation topic on the right track. "Betty, we came back to Willowdale for a reason. The data from the Gamma experiment that we last did, we were wondering if you still have it? Or does someone else?"

She opens her mouth to reply, though the sound of the kettle boiling out in the kitchen prevents her from getting a single word out. Pulling herself to her feet, she murmurs a delicate, "I'll be right back', before she then rushes off towards the kitchen, leaving Bruce and me behind in the living room with his question unanswered.

"Damn," Bruce mutters almost silently, reaching up to run his hand through his dark locks in frustration.

"She'll tell us when she comes back," I assure him quietly, as the sounds of Betty rummaging around through cabinets and drawers in her kitchen echo throughout the otherwise silent house. I furrow my brows though as the commotion in the kitchen only grows and continues as if Betty was frantically looking for something. Knowing perfectly well that it wouldn't take her that long to find three mugs, I lean my head forward in an attempt to peek down the hallway to see if I could see what it was that she was doing. But whatever it was must have been on the other side of the kitchen, as I could see nothing but the empty doorway and the corner of the sink from where I sat.

Bruce and I didn't have to wait too much longer, however, as Betty comes tearing down the hall once more. To my surprise, she didn't have any mugs in her hands but instead had a strong grasp on a small but elegant, silver jewellery box that was covered with a flower pattern. Definitely not the hot tea that I had been expecting.

When she reaches where Bruce and I were sitting, she leans down to offer the box to me. I take it from her fingers, the box cool against my slim fingers. Gingerly, I lift the lid up and expect to see jewellery of all shapes and sizes inside, though I am only greeted with the sight of a small, white USB.

"It's the data," Betty explains causing my eyes to widen in astonishment before I then hand it over to an eager Bruce, who picks up the USB and studies the small device in his hand.

"I got in there and got it before they went in and carted it all away," she elaborates. "A small part of me hoped it might have different results and tell us something about what we were intending to do someday."

Bruce nods before he then tears his eyes from the USB and up towards her instead. "Do you mind if we borrow it for a few days? We need it for what we're doing. One of us can send it back to you in the mail, or can come and give it back to you personally once we've finished with it-"

"Bruce, it's fine," Betty says, abruptly interrupting the small rambling that he had started. "The data is yours just as much as it is mine. You can have it for as long as you want."

"Does your father know that you have it?" Bruce questions nervously.

"No. At least, I don't think so."

"You have to be sure," I inform her gently, the face of her determined father flashing behind my eyes. Though it was essentially Bruce that he was after, I had a feeling that if Ross were to get his hand on the USB in Bruce's hands, then he may attempt to recreate the Hulk. "If he finds out you have this, he could cause a lot of damage."

"What do you mean by that?" Betty asks. When Bruce and I remain silent at her question, she then adds, "I don't understand why we can't go in there together and explain everything to him."

Bruce quickly shakes his head at this suggestion though. "I can't. I overheard him telling soldiers that he wants to dissect it from me and use the hu- uh, whatever the experiment did to me as a weapon."

"If he does that, then a lot of innocent people are most likely going to get hurt," I add, watching as Betty's eyes widen with my words. Leaning forward slightly, I continue, "Betty, you have to make sure that your father never gets his hand on this research. Bruce told you in the car that what happened to him now has side effects on him and trust me when I say that those side effects aren't good."

She pauses, no doubt processing what I had just said and the severity of the possible consequence of her father acquiring the research. What we had given her wasn't much to go on from. Part of me expected her to demand answers and a proper and full explanation about what it was that we were warning her about. But to my surprise, she doesn't do this. Instead, she only nods her head. "OK. I haven't told anyone that I have it and I promise I won't."

Both Bruce and I exhale sharply at this, the two of us sagging back in relief. "Thank you," I breathe, as Bruce attempts to stifle a yawn, shutting his eyes as he does so.

His attempt fails, however, and doesn't go unnoticed by Betty. With an amused smile ghosting her lips, she muses, "It appears someone is in need of a good nights sleep."

"Mm?" Bruce mumbles, opening one eye and then blinking open the other, before then giving a small sound of agreement. "Yeah. I suppose so."

Betty smiles before then standing up. "C'mon then. You two can go wait in your rooms and I'll get you some fresh clothes if you need any. And if you're still awake, I'll bring you something to drink as well."

I can't help but smile at her kindness, the thought of a warm drink in a warm bed sounding heavenly at this point in time. It had been such a long and harrowing couple of weeks, and I was looking forward to the possibility of falling into a deep slumber without a care in the world. And without having to be in a constant state of alertness, waiting for the possibility of soldiers or even Ross himself barging through the door, as I had been for the past couple of nights. I was fairly confident that we were safe here, as I didn't think that Ross would believe that Bruce would try and contact Betty after all this time. Not when his attempts to do so in the past had already failed.

"Bruce, could you show Lydia to one of the spare rooms?" Betty asks. "I'll go and find you some dry clothes."

He smiles and replies with a tired 'sure' before she returns the smile and walks towards the staircase. Bruce and I watch her go silently, her feet creating small thuds against the stairs as she ascended them. The moment that she was out of our sight and I knew that there wasn't a possibility that she could overhear what I intended to say, I whirl around to face Bruce. "I like her," I declare.

He chuckles as he pulls himself to his feet, with myself mirroring his actions. "Everyone likes Betty. She's just that good of a person."

"She has a mother-like nature to her," I muse, reaching up to grab Bruce's hand so that he could pull me up along beside him. "Speaking of her mother, does she look like her? I mean, I've seen her father and I have to say though there's some resemblance, there's not a lot. But Betty's pretty, so does she take after her mother?"

Bruce shrugs his shoulders as we make our way towards the stairs that Betty had disappeared from just moments before. "I don't know to be honest. Betty's mother died before I even met her," He reveals in a hushed tone."

"Oh," I say, a pang of sympathy stinging in my chest for Betty. "How did she die?"

"Cancer. Betty was twelve."

"Poor Betty," I mumble quietly my eyes dropping to the stairs beneath my feet as I continued to climb them. "It's a terrible thing to have to lose a parent. Especially when you're that young."

"She had her father though," Bruce points out quietly as we start to make our way down a hallway with green walls and photos of Betty with either her family or friends adorning the walls. In each and every single one of them, Betty wore a bright smile on her face, her eyes practically twinkling as they stared up at Bruce and I as we passed them.

"And despite everything that's happened over the years, Betty and her father do love each other," Bruce continues. "Betty's the only person I think Ross actually ever cared for."

"You mean the ass-hole actually has a heart?" I mutter darkly, causing Bruce to snort with amusement as he opens a door beside us and stands aside to let me pass by him and enter the room.

"Yes. The 'ass-hole' does have a heart," He muses, gesturing to the furnished space in front of us. "This is one of the spare rooms. The bathroom is just down the hall if you want a shower as well."

It's a small room, with a double bed in the middle of it with grey and white sheets and four pillows at the head of it. Beside it is a small bedside table with a lamp placed on it and a little clock informing me that it was almost twelve o'clock at night. There was also a window on the far side of the room, the dark blue curtains were drawn closed, though the colours made the pale blue wallpaper stand out. There was also a small set of drawers in the corner, which I guessed was where Betty's guest put their clothes whenever they stayed over.

Small. Cozy. And after sleeping in run-down motel rooms for the past few weeks, I absolutely loved it. It was perfect.

"Thanks, Bruce," I say, turning back to face him. "Go get some sleep OK? It's been a long day and if we're gonna leave tomorrow-"

"Lydia," Bruce says hesitantly, quickly cutting me off. He shifts nervously from one foot to another, causing me to narrow my eyes at him in suspicion. Something was clearly on his mind, and it must be pretty significant if he was as nervous as he was about telling me what it was.

"I-you've been so much help to me over the past few weeks-"

I can already tell where this conversation was heading, even though he hadn't properly finished his sentence. "Bruce-"

"And I have to say, as far as cousins go you're probably one of my favourites-"

"OK, I'm going to have to stop you-"

"But besides that-"

"Bruce, I-"

"You've been away from home now for a long-"

"I know what you're going to-"

"And I don't want to trouble you any more-"

 _"Bruce!_ " I exclaim loudly, causing him to jump in shock at the sudden shift in the volume of my voice. I huff and cross my arms over my chest, not caring as much if I just did give him a heart attack- it was the only way to shut him up and stop him from saying what I knew he was going to say.

"You don't want me to come with you any more, is that right?" I ask.

He gives me a guilty look and a mere shrug of his shoulders. "It's not a case of not wanting you here," he says quietly. "It's more a case of I don't want to trouble you anymore because you-you feel obliged to help me-"

"Do you really think that me tagging along with you for the past few weeks, is something that I haven't wanted to do?" I question him, feeling stunned when he shrugs his shoulder for the second time in a space of a minute. I shake my head and uncross my arms. "Well, it's not. I'm here now with you Bruce because I want to help you. Your my cousin for God's sake! We're _family."_

He gapes at my little outburst, clearly stunned. But if he thought that I was stopping here, then he was entirely wrong. If he seriously thought that I wasn't tagging along with him because I wanted to and instead because I felt obliged to, then he was wrong. And I was determined to convince him otherwise.

"I don't care if it meant that I had to spend days hiking through the jungles to find you or if it meant possibly getting in trouble with General Asshole or even if it meant having to sneak into universities! _I don't care!_ Truth be told, it's been worth it and I've enjoyed the time I've spent with you! I get you're used to being alone because you've had to be over the past few years but I'm trying to help you fix that. We are so, _so close_ to getting a cure- and I want the cure to work for you, Bruce. I want to find this cure probably as much as you do and it's _something I want to help you find._ So you're not taking off tomorrow by yourself, OK? We're going together. Capiche?"

Bruce just blinks once, twice and finally a third time once I finished my small little rant of frustration. I pause for a moment to let what I just send sink into him before I then find that he's slowly nodding at me, a smile creeping onto his face. "OK. Capiche. We leave tomorrow together. We find the cure together."

"Now we're talking," I muse gently before sighing in relief. "But for now, let's just shower and get some sleep. We can discuss our next move in the morning, OK?"

He nods, the smile still plastered to his face. "Goodnight Lydia," he replies before he then starts to walk down the hall.

Just as he reaches the end of it however and is about to turn around the corner, I call out to him "And Bruce? For the record, you're one of my favourite cousins too."

He only halts in his tracks and turns his head to give me a final nod, looking a lot less tired and stressed then he had been moments before. I'd like to think that it was because he had finally realised that he wasn't as alone in this as he had been before. Like I had told him, he now had me and I was determined to stick with him until the end.

But I never got the chance to ask, as he simply murmurs a small 'goodnight' before he then disappears around the corner entirely.

Smiling to myself, I turn around and walk into the room, leaving the door open behind me. I collect a pair of my pyjamas from my backpack as well as my toothbrush and hairbrush before I then exit the room quietly and walk down the hall and enter the bathroom, closing the door behind me and letting the bolt slide into place.

I have a long, hot shower, enjoying it as much as I can before climbing out and getting changed into my pyjama shorts and tee. Quickly towel drying my hair, I begin to brush my teeth when I hear the distinctive but faint sounds of Bruce and Betty talking to one another from the other side of the door: it was as if they were standing right outside of it. Not particularly wanting to walk out and interrupt their conversation nor wanting to eavesdrop on it, I try my hardest to focus on brushing my teeth instead.

But it was so damn hard _not_ to hear what is was they were saying, considering that two of them were talking not even six feet away from me.

"Listen, um..." I hear Bruce say somewhat awkwardly. "Lydia and I, we'll probably leave a little early tomorrow-"

"Really?" Betty asks, clearly disappointed at this. "You can't stay at all?"

"I want to, but it's just not safe for me to be here," Bruce softly explains. "They could find me. They came close to it recently. Lydia and I need to take the earliest bus out of here-"

"At least let me walk you to the station."

 _Say yes, say yes, say yes_ -I can't help but chant in my head, desperately wanting more time for the two of them to spend with one another.

"OK," Bruce relents, and it takes everything in me not to let out a small noise of joy at this.

The two of them cease talking momentarily, a silence descending on them. The romantic side to me was tempted to sneak over to the door and see if I could open it a crack without the two of them noticing just so I could see the scene unfold. But the sterner and serious part of me ordered the romantic side to shut it. The both of them had been through so much and deserved this private little moment with one another.

"Do you have everything you need?" Betty suddenly asks, her voice breaking the quiet spell.

"Yeah. Um...I..."

"What?"

"Nothing. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

After a brief pause, I hear the sound of a pair of feet retreating down the hall, and judging from the feminine sigh that I hear on the other side of the door, I conclude that the person leaving was Bruce Not keen on making myself known just yet to Betty, as I feared that she would be able to guess that I had heard the conversation between the two of them if I stepped out of the bathroom in that very moment, I remain utterly still and decide to wait for her to leave as well.

I didn't have to wait too much longer, as soon the sound of Betty's retreating footsteps bounced off the white walls of the bathroom until they disappeared altogether. I let out a breath that I had been holding in, yet still make no move to leave the bathroom just yet: better safe than sorry. So I take my time in collecting my belongings, making sure to fold my clothes and the towel slower than what I normally would have. Only then to I decide to leave the bathroom, making sure to tread carefully back towards the room that I was staying in, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Neither Betty or Bruce make an appearance again, and I quickly make it back to the room that I was staying in without being caught. Relaxing, I sigh in relief before I then move towards the bed where my bag was placed. Making sure that my clothes were still neatly folded, I have just enough time to place them in my bag when I hear the sound of a small knock on the still open door.

I jump at the sudden noise, my heart skipping a beat as I whirled around to face the entrance of the room. I am greeted with the sight of Betty leaning against the doorway, a small smile on her face and a hot mug with steam rising from the top of it in her hand.

"I didn't mean to startle you," She says, clearly noticing the way that I had jumped. "I just thought that I would bring you some hot chocolate before you went to bed."

My mouth practically starts watering at the sight of the mug now that I knew what it contained. Hot chocolates happened to be one of my favourite drinks, though I couldn't remember the last time that I had had one. It was quite difficult to find time to drink one and sit down and relax, what with being swarmed with a mission after mission from SHIELD, going after some leads about the organisation that had taken me, and then trekking across the jungle for two weeks.

Betty must notice my new-found enthusiasm as the smile on her face widens. "I take it that someone likes hot chocolate then?" She muses.

"It's only one of the best drinks to have ever been created," I joke, causing her to chuckle. She then holds the mug out towards me, which I graciously accept before I then bring it to my lips, sipping at the creamy, smooth liquid in it. "Tastes like heaven," I murmur before I then proceed to have another sip.

"I'm glad," she says. "But I also wanted to see if you had any clothes that you had that needed to be washed? I don't know much about being on the run, but I gather that it can be difficult to find a decent washing machine and dryer while doing so."

"Oh, you have no idea," I reply, causing her to chuckle once more. "But in all seriousness, thank you, Betty. Not just for this and for giving us the data, but for also allowing Bruce and I to stay here for the night. We both really appreciate."

"It's my pleasure," She says kindly, reaching up to fiddle with a necklace that hung from around her neck. I was too far away from her to be able to see the fine details of the piece of jewellery, though it was big enough for me to see that it was a small, golden heart hanging from the golden chain.

"That's a pretty necklace," I say. "Did, uh...did Samson give it to you?"

She visibly stiffens at the name, her face flushing crimson as her mouth twists into an awkward line. "Yes," She says in a voice barely above a whisper, as if she only wanted me to hear it. And thinking about it more, I can't help but think that she replied so quietly so that a certain someone in the room down the hall couldn't hear what it was that she was saying, even though I didn't think he could hear us from that far away. Clearly, she and Bruce hadn't discussed Samson yet then.

"It's pretty," I repeat, also speaking in a hushed tone to help ease her nerves. "Have you and Samson been together for long, then?"

She pushes away from the door, walking deeper into the room and over towards the window to my right. Staring at the blue curtains in front of her rather than me, she replies quietly, "Almost a year now. But we're- we're taking it slow. I mean, he's the first man that I've been with since-" She cuts off though, unable to finish that sentence. But she didn't have to for me to figure out whose name she had been seconds away from uttering. The answer was almost blindingly obvious.

"Since Bruce," I finish for her.

She nods her head and finally looks back at me, her eyes glistening slightly with tears."Yes. Since Bruce."

"Do you...still have feelings for him?" I ask hesitantly. When her eyes widen at the bluntness of my words, I hastily add, "I mean, you said in the car that you never really got over him so I just sort of figured that there was something there still."

She doesn't immediately reply to this, but instead stands there in silence and diverts her gaze to the floorboards beneath her feet. It as clear to me that she was pondering an answering to my question, so I say nothing to allow her the time she would need to consider an answer. It was a rather difficult question to answer, considering the circumstances that she found herself in. I mean, technically her and Bruce's relationship had ended simply because he had gone on the run. There weren't any harsh words or actions: their relationship had a tragic ending simply because fate willed it so. Had it been some other person than Bruce in that chair the day that they had done the experiments, then there was a chance that the two of them would still be together.

And judging from the snippets that Bruce had told me over the past few weeks, their love hadn't simply been just a fling: it had been real. Something that could lead the two of them living the rest of their lives together. And considering the fact that Bruce wasn't over Betty after all this time, I couldn't help but think curiously, that there was a chance that Betty- if not a part of her- still loved him as well.

"I don't know," She admits in a whisper. "I loved him. I truly did. There was a time where I thought that the two of us were going to be together for the rest of our lives. But then he left...and Samson showed up. He's a great guy, he really is. And he's just always been around, whereas Bruce hasn't. And I understand that Bruce couldn't help that, I really do, but-"

"Hey, I'm not judging you," I quickly inform her, noticing how a hint of panic had seeped into her voice the longer that she spoke. She was obviously in turmoil over the whole situation, which simply wasn't fair on her: none of this was her fault. "I'm not trying to make you choose either. I was just curious- my curiosity gets the better of me, I guess you could say."

She glances up at me at this, a stray tear leaking from her startling blue eyes. Chuckling with embarrassment, she reaches up to quickly wipe it from her face. "I'm sorry," She says, her voice thick with emotion. "I didn't mean to start crying."

"Don't apologise for crying, Betty," I reply gently. "It's a shitty situation that you're in, so it's completely understandable that you're feeling upset. But just for now, tell yourself that it's going to work out. Because I have a feeling, it's going to. And again, I'm not asking you to choose between the two of them. Whatever you decide to do in the end is your choice, and your choice alone."

She sniffs and nods, once again reaching up to wipe at her eyes to prevent any more tears from spilling from them. "What about you?" She asks. "Is there anyone special waiting for you back home?"

I snort in amusement and only take another sip of my drink. "Ha. That's funny."

"No one at all?"

"Not at the moment no. I mean, I've had boyfriends before. My recent and longest one was with a fellow colleague of mine and we actually dated for a while. He was my longest and most serious relationship, but..." I trail off and shrug my shoulders. "Sometimes they just don't work out. Though if I'm being quite honest, I really thought that Ward would be 'the one'. God, that's almost cringe-worthy saying it like that."

Betty chuckles, all traces of sadness leaving her face. "So go out. Find someone new. Go dancing- dancing's a great way to meet new people."

"Maybe so. I'd rather take the right partner dancing though, rather than someone who may not have any significance in my life years later."

"So you just have to find your right partner. The one you're waiting for."

"Exactly."

* * *

 **3rd Person P.O.V**

Thaddeus Ross slid the keycard through the electric slot before then quickly pressing the correct code that would enable him to enter the sealed room. A small beeping noise alerted him that the door was now unlocked so he quickly reached forward with one of his hands and pushed down on the handle, pushing the door open to a very dark and very cold room in front of him. He grabbed his torch from his pocket, turned it on and entered the room.

Machinery covered in plastic surrounded him on all sides of the room. He knew what each of these pieces of machinery held inside them. Weapons. Weapons that could help the USA, while also getting him the glory of having and creating these said weapons.

There was one weapon in here that he didn't help create though. This weapon was different from any other in this room.

It was a weapon out of time.

He knew which piece of machinery he wanted so he marched straight ahead, his eyes fixed on the plastic covered machine at the end of the room. Once he reached it, he ripped the cover of the machine and looked down at the little sign that was stuck on the side of the gleaming metal before him:

 **CRYOSYNC  
Program: Weapons Plus  
Developer: Dr Erskine  
Batch No.: 006-V2  
UNDER CONTRACT US DEPARTMENT DEFENSE**

He then placed the torch in his mouth, gently biting down on it to hold it in place before reaching inside the pocket of his pants and grabbing the key in there that would unlock the lock that prevented him from opening the machinery and grabbing the weapon. Once he had it in his hand, he quickly reached forward to slide it in place, unlocking the compartment of the equipment that would grant him the weapon that he so desperately wanted. He grabbed the small test tube with the blue liquid with his plump, gloved hand and bought it up closer to his face to inspect it.

He couldn't help but smirk at the sight, knowing that Blonsky was the perfect test subject for the weapon and the perfect person to help capture Banner.

After all this time, Ross was finally going to get the Hulk.

* * *

Betty had been true to her word when she said that she wanted to walk us to the station. After waking up to find croissants, coffee and orange juice for breakfast waiting for Bruce and me in the kitchen, we had quickly enjoyed the delicious breakfast that Betty had cooked for us before we packed our gear and left Betty's house behind us.

The walk so far had been an uneventful one. Betty and Bruce walked quietly ahead, the two of them murmuring things between them and I made no move to quicken my pace and catch up with them. Like last night, I wanted them to have as much time as possible alone together before they would be split from one another once more. But if the cure really worked, then I knew that there was a chance that the two of them would have more moments like this to share with one another in the future.

After ten minutes of walking, I was surprised to see that we were back at the University. When I question Betty about this, she merely shrugs her shoulders and replies, "It's on the way to the station."

I only nod in response and reach up to adjust the cap that I was wearing on my head. But while I was at ease with this, it seems that Bruce wasn't as thrilled at the idea of being back at the university once more. If anything, he seemed more nervous and more on edge.

Betty also picks up on this as well, as she guides him to a gentle stop on the green lawn of the university grounds. "Is everything OK?" she asks him worriedly.

After a brief scan of the general area around him, he turns back to face her and nods as he gives her an assuring smile. "I think so," He says with a smile, that doesn't quite meet his eyes.

She nods before biting her lips as she looks down at Bruce's waist. Before Bruce can ask her what's wrong, she reaches forward and un-tucks Bruce's blue shirt from his grey pants. Bruce turns as red as a tomato as her fingers brush over his skin, though he turns his head so that Betty couldn't see this. She, however, doesn't seem fazed at their sudden proximity. "It's better this way," She says with a smile before she then reaches up and removes his hat from his head. It takes everything within me not to laugh at the flustered expression on his face at this, though I manage to prevent myself from doing so by catching my bottom lip with my teeth. Bruce was such a dork.

"It's, uh...too-too tight," He mutters awkwardly.

I shoot them a final smile before I then feel inclined to turn my gaze away from them. My eyes quickly land on a row of hedges across the lawn and I keep my eyes fixed on them while both Bruce and Betty have their moment.

 _There._

I narrow my eyes as I see something flash behind the edges, someone ducking down behind them before I have time to register their movement. Keeping my eyes trained on the greenery, I wait patiently to see whether or not the movement had simply just been my imagination. But to my absolute dismay, I spot a man dressed in a military uniform make a mad dash from the hedges to the pillars of the building beside him, carrying a deadly gun in his hand.

And it didn't take a genius to figure out why it was that a soldier happened to be here at the university on the same day at the exact moment that Bruce was.

They're here.

Which meant Ross wasn't that far behind.

My stomach drops in dread as I realised that it was likely that there was more than one soldier on the campus, with others being close by: hell, they could essentially have us surrounded right now, but the other two were completely oblivious to it.

We had to get out of here.

"Bruce," I quickly say, turning my attention back to both him and Betty, the two of them staring at me in confusion as they saw the stricken look that was on my face. Moving towards them, I explain, "We'have to leave. They're here. We have to go right now."

While Betty's look of confusion only deepens, Bruce only blanches at my words as he realises who it was that I was talking about. He only swallows thickly and nods though, before he then turns around and places his hands firmly on a still confused Betty's shoulders. "Betty, listen to me. You have to get as far away from me as possible."

"What? Bruce-"

"Don't argue with me, just go. Lydia, you stay with her and protect her no matter what."

Now it was my turn to start protesting at this. "Bruce-"

"If I change, you need to protect her from me," he says firmly, effectively cutting me off.

I didn't like the idea of leaving Bruce to fend off against the soldiers that were only moments away from attacking him. Not only because I didn't want them to hurt Bruce, but also because I knew that they _can't._ If they attacked Bruce, then I knew that it was more than likely that he would change. And after seeing the damage that the confrontation caused between the soldiers and the Hulk in Rocinha, I knew that any confrontation between them here was going to result in the same level of damage. Only this time, more civilian lives were at stake. The campus grounds were crawling with students and professors alike that were at risk at getting caught in the crossfire.

Including Betty beside me. The woman that Bruce was pleading with me to protect. And I knew that I couldn't fail him, not with the look of desperation that was on his face as begged me to keep her safe from him.

Huffing in frustration, I curtly nod my head and watch as he takes off running, without saying a single word or pausing to look back at Betty and I staring after him. She eventually whirls back around to face me, her mouth parted and I knew that she was seconds away from asking me what the hell was going on. But before either of us could say a word, a loud crashing noise echoes throughout the air behind us. Instinctively, I reach for Betty and yank her down, the two of us turning to see that three army trucks had driven straight through two cars, which were now shredded into numerous sharp pieces. The vehicles drive straight past us and move off in the same direction that Bruce had taken off in, while a new group of soldiers appeared from behind the building that I had seen the first one hide behind, also following after Bruce.

 _"_ _No!_ " Betty exclaims before she tears herself from my grasp and takes off running after Bruce and the soldiers, quicker than I had time to react.

"Betty _stop!_ " I yell before I then spring into action, running after the tall brunette who either hadn't heard my command or had simply ignored it. As I follow after her, more soldiers continue to appear out of nowhere with some yelling orders to one another, each of them carrying guns and all other sorts of weapons in their hands. They hadn't noticed me yet, though as I glance at them my eyes fall on one particular one who was running slightly ahead of the group, a giant smirk on his face. Looking closer, I can't help but groan in annoyance as I realise that it's the god damn blonde soldier from Rocinha. It appears he was just as an enthusiastic about joining the manhunt for Bruce back here in the states as he was in Brazil.

I pass professors and students as I continue to run, who are all looking at the armed troops and trucks in astonishment. As I pass them, I slow down slightly so that I could warn them, "You people need to leave, _now_! You'll get hurt if you stay!"

They don't pay any attention to my words much too my dismay, as they only continue to talk among themselves and point towards the trucks, the excitement in their voices only growing. It was abundantly clear to me that they weren't going to leave and wouldn't listen to me if I ordered them to do so, and I knew that I didn't have enough time to get them all out of here. Once I got Betty to a secure and safe location, then perhaps I would be able to come back and get them moving. Or hopefully, they would leave when the fighting started. But there was nothing that I could do for them now, not when I had Betty's life to worry about. So I only turn away and quicken my pace once more, leaving their excited voices behind me.

I continue to run past students, trees and more buildings, the soldiers and the vehicles still heading in the same direction, the massive university library looming in front of us as we ran. With Bruce nowhere in sight, I conclude that he must be somewhere in the building or had hopefully managed to evade the soldiers a little longer. But with him nowhere in sight, Betty finally comes to a halt which allows me the chance to catch up with her.

"Betty!" I yell as I work my way around her so that I was staring up at her angrily. "What the hell were you thinking? Bruce told you to run for a reason!"

"He needs our help Lydia!" she counters. "I'm not going to let them take him!"

"Trust me when I say, they probably won't be able too," I mutter in response before shaking my head. "I get that you want to help him but look around!" I exclaim, waving my arms towards the soldiers and the trucks that were now a fair way ahead of us, closing in on the building. Bruce must definitely be in there then. "This is dangerous! And yes, even though I had to admit it, Bruce is dangerous! That's why they have so many soldier's and weapons because otherwise, they don't stand a chance against Bruce."

"What makes him dangerous?!" She demands.

"Look, there's about a fifty percent chance that you may find out the answer to your question sometime very soon. But the point is, Bruce asked me to protect you, so that's what I'm going to do. But we need to get somewhere safe when the fighting starts-"

"Fighting?" She whispers before she then looks over my shoulder, something catching her eye. I turn around to see her staring at a large military command vehicle, that was moving slowly in the direction of the library.

"I know that vehicle," she mumbles before to my annoyance, she starts to run full speed towards it, leaving me gaping after her.

 _"Betty!"_ I yell angrily, running after her just as she reaches the vehicle with her arms held up in the air, causing the vehicle to come to a screeching halt rather than hitting her.

"I know you're in there!" She yells loudly, just as I reach her, causing me to pause and shoot her a confused look as I stand beside her and realise that it wasn't me that she was talking to. Instead, it was someone inside the vehicle. Who the hell did she know was in there? Whatever the case, I couldn't help but note that the two of us standing in its path was preventing it from reaching Bruce: we were buying him more time. It wasn't as if we were in any danger either, as it wasn't as if they would shoot innocent civilians.

When there's no response to Betty's call, she lowers her arms to her side, adding, "General please!"

Realisation hits me like a slap in the face as I realise that she was talking to her father: it was Ross sitting inside that vehicle, not responding to his daughter's desperate pleas.

 _"DAD!"_ She suddenly screams next to me, causing me to jump a mile in the air in shock, having not expected her to do so. Her final scream works though, as we suddenly hear the sound of a door opening from the other side of the machine. Not even a second later, a very pissed off looking Thaddeus Ross marches appears from around the side of the vehicle, moving straight towards where Betty and I were standing.

As he reaches us, Betty steps forward and pleads with him, "Dad, please, don't do this!"

"You can't see this clearly enough," Ross snaps, pointing to the library. "That man is a criminal!"

"Because you made him one," I replied coolly, his words angering me to the point where I clench my fists at my side.

His head snaps towards me at my words, a look of recognition mixed with annoyance. "You," Is all he says.

"Me. Lydia Hathaway- I would say I'm pleased to meet you, but I'm really not," I counter, crossing my arms over my chest as he glares at me.

"I know who you are," he snaps. "You've caused me and my men enough trouble over these past few weeks- it's only because you're a S.H.I.E.L.D agent, that you're not behind bars yourself."

"S.H.I.E.L.D?" Betty asks, clearly confused.

I don't bother to answer her as I shoot my own glare towards Ross. "That's good that you know who I am. Because you then know what kind of power I have at S.H.I.E.L.D. I swear to God that if you hurt or even kill Bruce, I will do everything in my power at S.H.I.E.L.D to expose you for who you really are and what you've done."

The glare on his face hardens, as he takes a small step towards me, knocking Betty's outstretched hand as she tries to stop him to the side. "Are you threatening me, agent?" he asks me in a low, dangerous tone, clearly trying to intimidate me.

"I'm making a promise," I hiss. "A promise you better hope that I don't keep."

He opens his mouth to snap something in reply when a soldier from a group of them that had walked up beside us points to the overpass in the library building and yells, "There he is!"

Ross and I lose interest of one another the moment that those words escape the mouth of the soldier as we turn around to face the direction in which he was pointing. We were a little far away, but sure enough, I could just make out that it was indeed Bruce running in the overpass, his bag no longer strapped on his back. He must have ditched it after he left Betty and I. I could only hope though that he had hidden the USB with the data on it, as if he was caught and it was on him, then it was essentially game over. Ross would have not only the hulk but the data to replicate what was done to Bruce as well.

 _"_ _Target is in the overpass"_ , I heard someone say from the walkie-talkie in its holster around Ross' waist, the words causing my stomach to drop with dread, _"We have a visual. He's locked in"_

In a flash, Ross whips the walkie-talkie to his mouth, as he takes a few steps forward and barks in response, "Do not engage, I repeat! Do not engage!"

Betty and I watch helplessly as Bruce looks frantically from one end of the overpass to the other before he looks straight ahead from where he stood, directly at the small group consisting of Betty, Ross, the soldiers and myself. Swarms of soldiers run along the open ground in front of the building while some appear on roofs of neighbouring buildings. They all have guns in their hands and too my dismay, there all pointed directly at Bruce.

I whirl to Ross, anger coursing throughout my veins as I snap, "You know you can't kill him! You've seen what happens if his heart beats to fast! You're gonna unleash him in his worst form which means a lot of innocent men are gonna get hurt. Call them off!"

"This doesn't concern you agent. Know your place."

 _"Call them off! These men are going to die!"_

He ignores my last plea and instead looks away from me and back at the building, ordering somewhat smugly into the communication device, "Put two cans of canisters in with him!"

Sure enough, two soldiers raise their guns and aim them at the glass windows in the overpass before they then fire in synch, the two metal tubes whizzing through the air and shattering the glass as they make an impact. The tubes fall to the ground and start to emit gas from them, causing Bruce to quickly tug off his blue shirt and hold it up to his mouth, trying to keep the gas from seeping into his lungs just a little bit longer.

 _"No!"_ Betty shouts desperately before she then takes off running towards the overpass, tears streaking down her face as she does. It only takes me a split second to react and follow after her.

I needed to get her out of here _now._ I knew those canisters were only going to help add fuel to the fire and make the situation worst. Bruce's heart would no doubt start to pick up as he went into panic mode and then he would turn into the Hulk and hurt a lot of innocent people if he needed to to get away. The closer Betty was to him, the more chance she would get caught in the line of fire and get hurt, either by Bruce or the soldiers. I had promised my cousin that I would keep her safe, and that was exactly what it was that I was going to do.

"Get them back here!" I here Ross order to the watching soldiers behind us. I don't look back, however, until I feel a hand touch my shoulder, alerting me to the fact they've caught up. I slow down to let the hand get a grip on my shoulder before I then reach back, grab the arm and bend down before then using all of the strength I had to flip the solider over my body so that he landed flat on his back on the ground in front of me. Before I know it, I'm being yanked to my feet by another from behind, while two more soldiers run after Betty.

The soldier attempts to drag me backwards and further away from Betty so I use one of my hands to grab his arm and the other to wrap itself around his neck. Then, I kick my legs up as high in the air as possible, the top half of my body leaning against the chest of the soldier for support while the bottom half of me is suspended in the air. I quickly bend my knees before kicking my legs out, the weight of them and gravity causing to crash back towards the ground, bringing myself and the soldier with them. I land in a crouch with the weight of the soldier wearing down on me and knowing that if I waited for a second longer to stay like this, then the soldier would evidently entrap me between him and the ground. So at the last possible second, I twist my body as we fall so that my back lands on the ground and the soldier loses his grip on me, as he goes flying over the top of me. I bend my legs towards my chest and place my hands on the ground next to my head with my legs bending over the rest of my body. I then fling them back up, my top half following soon after me where I then land on both feet, just in time to see Betty elbow a soldier in the face and get tackled by the other.

Thrusting my hands forward I create a gust of wind that's strong enough to send the soldier flying through the air and off Betty. Once he's clear and Betty attempts to pull herself to her feet once more, I dart towards her and don't come to a stop until I'm towering over her crouched, shaking form. She looks up at me, tears streaming down her face and mixing with the dirt that was smudged there from where her face had hit the ground. "Lydia-"

"We have to go, this is going to turn ugly," I explain, before then grabbing her hand and pulling her up and away as fast as I could from the building Not wanting to waste too much time comforting her when I knew that I could do so later, I only drag her back the way that we had originally come from. "We have to-"

I'm cut off by a deafening roar, however, causing Betty to wrench us to a stop so she could face the direction in which the sound came from.

I already knew what it was though.

I knew who it belonged to.

Before I could even react, however, the entire side of the overpass that was facing us suddenly burst apart in a cloud of debris and shattering glass, hitting the unsuspecting soldiers on the lawn beneath, their shrieks of pain and shock filling the air.  
A large chunk of debris comes hurtling towards Betty and I. Acting quickly, I push her to the side and raise my arms high up in the air, creating an invisible shield in front, above and behind us. The debris bounces of it, continuing to roll away afterwards, causing me to breathe a sigh of relief and drop the shield, just as the Hulk jumps from the overpass and lands with a loud crash on the grass in front of it. I hear Betty gasp beside me as she sees the Hulk for the first time, myself also getting caught up once again at the sight of the green figure in front of me. It slowly pulls itself to its feet and clenches it's massive fists at its side as it stares at the soldiers in front of him before then turning its glare to Ross. It snarls and bares its teeth before then taking a step forward and roaring once again, wrenching its arms back as it does.

"Oh my God," Betty breathes beside me. _"Bruce?"_


	9. Ch 8: The Battle of Culver University

The look of horror that Betty wore on her face as she realised that the Hulk was Bruce, only intensified as the sound of gunshots and the soldiers screaming orders to one another fill the air. At the sound of the weapons being fired, I reach for Betty and quickly shove her body behind mine, keeping my eyes trained on Ross' men across the lawn. My eyes narrow on the guns that they were aiming at Bruce, but with a quick snap of my wrists, I create a sudden and huge gust of wind that sends the bullets of course and harmlessly into the nearby trees.

With the soldiers now pausing, momentarily distracted by their sudden confusion as to why none of their bullets hit their intended target, I grab Betty firmly by her wrist and start to pull her away soldiers and the still roaring Hulk. I drag her back towards her father- even though he was probably one of the last people that she wanted to be near at the moment- who wore a pleased smirk on his face as he watched the chaos unfolding in front of him. The sight causes my blood to boil with rage, and it takes everything within me not to march forward and knock it right of his arrogant face. Managing to keep my cool, however, I regrettably don't do this and instead gently hand Betty of towards two soldiers. "I need to go and help those men," I inform her. "I need you to stay here, and keep out of the crossfire while I do so, OK?"

She barely nods her head at this, clearly still in shock about having seen the Hulk for the first time.

Not one hundred percent convinced that she wouldn't attempt to break away and run straight to Bruce if she was given the opportunity- due to her having done so twice earlier- I turn to one of the soldiers standing beside her. "Watch her," I order, waiting until he agrees before I then turn on my heel and run straight back towards the fray, briefly hearing Ross call out, "Where are the fifty cals? _Move your asses!"_

The sound of engines roaring behind me informs me that more vehicles have entered the university grounds, and it didn't take a genius to figure out that these contained weapons. The university was fast on the way becoming a war zone with Ross issuing more orders for more weapons and men, and I knew that he would only continue to do so until he either had Bruce or Bruce somehow managed to escape.

Hopefully, it was the latter.

I watch as the two vehicles roar past me and zoom directly towards the green creature, two men on the top of them wielding machine guns that they were preparing to aim at Bruce, the sight causing my stomach to drop with dread.

It appears that I didn't have anything to worry about, however, as the Hulk rams into the side of one of the oncoming vehicles. He does so so hard, that it tips on its wheels and lands with a crash on its side. But it doesn't stop there, as it continues to topple over onto its back. The soldier who had originally been standing on the top of the vehicle lets out a scream as he realises that he won't have enough time to escape. Acting instinctively, I jerk my hands towards him and use a gust of wind to fling him out from underneath the vehicle just in time, before it crushes him to death. As he topples to the ground, I pause momentarily as I lower my hands, wanting to ensure that he wasn't hurt. Only when he starts to pull himself to his feet do I turn my back on him and rush towards the Hulk once more.

Instead of ramming into the second vehicle as he had for the first, the Hulk simply grabs the second vehicle off from the ground, lifting it easily, as if he weighed nothing more than a feather. He swings it above his head and lets out another roar, this one even louder than the first. With another jerk of my hand, I send the men in the vehicle out and flying through the air away from both it and the Hulk, just as he slams it down on a sculpture beside him. Bits of metal fly throughout the air on impact, with soldiers running and screaming at one another from all directions. There were so many voices in the air that I couldn't discern what even one of them was saying, though I stop trying to when I notice a wounded soldier laying on the ground near the Hulk.

His leg was bent at an odd angle, leading me to believe that there was a chance that it was broken, and he had a deep cut on his forehead, causing blood to spill down half of his face. In his shaking hand, he held a gun which was aimed directly at the Hulk, but the man didn't seem to have the strength to pull the trigger. The Hulk, who was still slamming the remaining parts of the vehicle against the sculpture in a fit of rage, finally noticed the soldier on the ground beside him and bared its teeth at the sight of the small gun. Forgetting about the sculpture altogether, the Hulk raises the sharp, jagged remains of the vehicle high above his head, no doubt having the intention of crushing the soldier beneath him with it.

Not wanting that to happen, I fling my arms out towards the man and create a powerful gust of wind that sends him flying through the air towards me, just as the Hulk slams the remaining parts down, missing the soldier by a hair's breadth.

I place him gently down on the ground in front of me, though upon hearing his pained cries I rush to him and gently help him to his feet. Making sure that he wasn't in a position that required him to put pressure on his leg, I swing his arm over my shoulder and grab him firmly around the waist, ordering him to put his weight on me if he needed to. He only whimpers in response before we then start to hurry back in the direction that I had originally come from, while also trying to go at a pace that was causing him the least amount of pain as possible.

We're about ten yards away from Ross, Betty and the two soldiers when we hear the sound of an explosion somewhere behind us, the ground consequently shaking and almost causing both myself and the soldier to topple over. Managing to keep the two of us upright, I turn and glance over my shoulder where I am greeted with the sight of two vehicles on fire and, much to my surprise, an object that looks like an engine beside them. It doesn't take me long to put two and two together and realise that the Hulk had thrown the engine and caused the explosion: things were getting out of hand quickly. Huffing in annoyance, I turn back around and try to walk faster, practically carrying the soldier at this point.

After what seems like an eternity later, the two of us finally reach the small group that was watching the Hulk with looks of shock mixed with fear on every single one of their faces. At the sight of the wounded soldier, the two that I had asked to watch over Betty step forward and carefully pry him from my arms. The soldier who I had saved mumbles a small 'thank you' before he is then taken away, Betty quickly hurrying to my side as they go. Ross, who hadn't pain either myself or the solider the slightest attention, watches with the smirk still plastered to his lips as the Hulk hurls one of the vehicles towards another approaching one, the soldiers inside barely having enough time to spring from inside the vehicle to avoid being hit. Raising his com up to his lips, he barks into the small device, "Blonsky! You're up!"

At his order, the blonde soldier that had lead the chase for Bruce and me back in Rocinha breaks away from one of the many small groups of soldiers, a gun in his hand as he confidently strides towards the Hulk. The smirk on his face was just as confident, and it was clear to me that he firmly believed that he was going to win this fight. _Idiot._

He fires a shot that hits the Hulk directly in his back, though much like the other bullets, this one does little to nothing to hurt him, but only increases his anger instead. The Hulk snarls in annoyance, before it then reaches down and tears a chunk of metal off from the sculpture beside, the horrendous sound that it causes causing for both Betty and me to wince with discomfort. We only watch, however, as the Hulk uses the piece as a shield, blocking more bullets as Blonsky continued to fire them.

When he runs out of bullets, Blonsky throws his weapon to the side, though he continues to stride towards the green creature in front of him. "Do you remember me?" He screams.

The Hulk roars over the top of him, Blonsky's words almost getting lost in the significantly louder noise. It raises the slab of metal high in the air, no doubt getting ready to slam it down on the cocky soldier in front of him. But before he has the chance to do so, Blonsky suddenly breaks into a sprint at an incredibly fast speed- much faster than he had been running in Rocinha- before he then leaps high into the air- much higher than anyone could possibly do. He lands one foot on a surprised Hulk's chest, before using it to propel himself upwards so that he is able to land on the remains of the sculpture behind the Hulk. The Hulk bellows in confusion and turns to face the soldier, who has already pulled out a small handgun from his pocket and fires at the Hulk once more, causing it to fume with anger. It swings the metal towards Blonsky, though he manages to jump off the sculpture, flipping through the air as he continues to fire his weapon before landing gracefully on the ground with both of his feet.

This has me narrowing my eyes suspiciously. Jumping from the height that he just had should have caused Blonsky to break his ankles the second that his feet touched the ground. Not to mention the fact that the leap that he had done in the first place from the ground and up to the Hulk's chest should have been impossible for him to do: no ordinary person could do something like that, not even an extremely fit and strong person either. And the speed that he had run just moments before, so fast that he was practically a blur. Something didn't quite add up here.

I only watch as he continues to fire at the Hulk until he once again runs out of bullets and throws the gun to the side, leaving him defenceless against the Hulk. The Hulk realises this and with a snap of its teeth, it swings the metal towards Blonsky, who manages to duck his head at the last possible second, avoiding getting it knocked completely off. He dives to the side when the Hulk swings at him once again, doing it so fast that I barely see him move. When he straightens and sees that the Hulk is coming at him once again, he jumps and flips through the air, high over and above the Hulk, once again landing on his feet on the ground beside the Hulk. The sight causes my mouth to drop open: it was as if Blonsky was some form of a super soldier!

 _Super Soldier._

I freeze at the two familiar words, having heard them more times then I could count over the years in the stories that my great-grandmother had told me as a child. Stories involving risky experiments and skilled men, a soldier stronger, fast and overall, more advanced than any other that had ever existed. They had been stories of legend. Of a time well before I was born.

Though looking at Blonsky now, I didn't think that they were just stories.

I whirl around to face Ross at the thought, biting out between my teeth, "Do you by any chance happen to know Margaret Carter?"

He only spares me a glance from the corner of his narrow eyes, before they then flicker back towards Blonsky who was still attempting to go at it with the Hulk. "I know who she is," He practically snarls in response.

"Then you know that she was a British Officer that served the SSR during the Second World War," I add. When he doesn't respond, I coolly continue, "When I was younger, she used to tell me stories of her experiences in the war, and the people that she worked with and fought side by side with. There was one man- she never told me his name- that was injected with a special serum that turned him into what was known as a super soldier. A soldier a lot faster, stronger and overall better than any other soldier. Have you done something similar to Blonsky? Did you somehow recreate the serum?" I'm met with only silence from him, which I immediately take as a yes. Shaking my head, I bitterly add, "You just don't know when to stop when it comes to gaining power, do you Ross?"

"One more word out of you Agent, and I'll have my men remove you from premises," he warns me in a dangerously low tone.

But now that I had started, I couldn't seem to stop. "First you try and hunt down Bruce because of the Hulk to try and use him as a weapon. Bloody hell: you should have just done the experiment on the military guy instead. Then..." I trail off, however, unable to finish my ramble when something suddenly clicks in my head.

"Recreate the serum..."

From what my great-grandmother had told me as a child, the serum that created the super soldier had been destroyed and the scientist killed before he could recreate anymore. She told me it was impossible to recreate another one, as it would take too much time and would cost a lot to create and no one knew how to create it except for the scientist that had created it in the first place. But that was back in the forties though. Things had changed, technology had changed. Had the government tried over the years to recreate the serum? They would need some of the best scientists around though in biochemistry and cellular biology. Like Bruce and Betty-

 _Oh my god._

Everything seemed to fall into place after this. Ross tried to get Bruce and Betty to create the serum. That's why he had wanted to test out if it worked on the military guy- because if it had worked, he would've had the perfect soldier. But Bruce had done it instead and it had ended up backfiring but Ross didn't care. He found something almost as good as the super soldier. A more enhanced one if anything.

"You _bastard,"_ I venomously spit, causing Ross to whirl around with a look of anger on his face. I don't let him say anything though, as I continue to speak, anger causing my blood to boil in my veins as I continued to put two and two together in my mind. "You made Bruce and Betty try to recreate the serum."

His face turning a shade paler and the anger leaving his face is enough of a confirmation of this for me.

"Is that true?" Betty, her voice startling me ever so slightly, having almost forgotten that she was here. Her voice had been weak as she spoke, but it didn't match the angry glare that she was shooting her father beside her. Clearly, she had truly believed that she and Bruce had been doing the experiment for an entirely different reason: she didn't know the truth behind Ross' schemes.

It appears that he wasn't entirely ready to admit the truth, however, as he flippantly snaps, "I don't have the time to listen to the ramblings of a self-deluded idiot."

My hands clench into fists at his snide words, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to swing them up and into his angry face. I knew perfectly well that doing so was only going to get me in deep trouble, and Ross knew this as much as I did. Not wanting him to gain the satisfaction of this that I sure as hell didn't think he deserved, I only shoot daggers at him as I slowly unclench my fists. He'd be solving all of his problems if I hit him. No one would be able to reveal what he really did behind closed doors or stop him from capturing Bruce.

It seems that Ross did gain some satisfaction though, smirking smugly as I back down and lower my hands once more. He doesn't add anything else, however, and instead turns towards where Blonsky was still fighting my cousin and orders, "Lead him towards the cannons!"

The familiar roar of two more engines from somewhere to the left of the three of us causes me to turn and see that two more vehicles had entered the university grounds and were quickly moving towards where Blonsky was still attempting to take down the Hulk. But the closer that I looked at the two vehicles, I discover that these ones were entirely different to the others that the Hulk had destroyed. To my surprise and horror, on the top of these vehicles were a Stark Sonic Cannon, a non-lethal, long-range acoustic weapon. It could emit extremely intense, compressed sound waves that could disable anyone. They couldn't be used to kill someone, but they could cause a lot of pain and one hell of a headache later.

They come to a screeching halt and a soldier from each of the passenger side jumps out and climbs up towards the top of the vehicles, only stopping when they're standing directly behind each of the cannons, their hands firmly grasping the machine, getting ready to use them against the oncoming Hulk. Blonsky sees this and quickly runs out of the way, only just managing to get out of range before the soldiers then quickly activated the weapons.

Betty, Ross and I were all too far away to hear the unbearable sound that the cannons were emitting, but the Hulk was, unfortunately, standing directly in the sound wave path. His roars of anger quickly turn into ones of pain instead and he flings the piece of metal in his hand to the side, clutching at his head as he falls to the ground in complete agony. He places his large, green hands over the top of his airs, feebly attempting to block the noise that I could not hear.

I don't realise that I'm running straight towards him until I hear Ross call out for someone to stop me. I'm too focused on the sight of the helpless, tortured Hulk- of Bruce- in front of me to notice that Blonsky was rushing at me until it's too late, and I'm tackled to the ground.

I cry out as we hit the ground, rolling on impact, our limbs tangling together until I manage to haul him off me. Coming to a stop, I quickly pull myself to my feet, Blonsky doing the same in front of me. He rushes towards me before diving down and sweeping his leg into a circle, trying to knock my feet out from underneath me. I jump at the last possible second, however, and leap backwards as he pulls himself up from his position on the ground and knees me in the face.

He had moved so quickly that I hadn't had time to even register that he had bought his leg up until it's far too late and his knee crushes against the bottom half of my mouth. Pain explodes where he made contact and I can't contain the cry of pain that escapes past my lips, quickly scrambling back to get away from him. He follows after me though, and attempts to land a punch to my cheek which I quickly block with my arm, and then sidestep to avoid a kick to my gut.

His smile goes from smug to bitter in an instant. "Stop running away and fight!" He hisses, sending yet another punch towards my face: and this time he makes contact. My head whips to the side and I immediately taste blood in my mouth, _he hit me that hard goddamn it_ , stars exploding in front of my eyes. Spitting the blood out of my mouth, anger courses through my veins once more at his words. It was clear that this man was just as power hungry as Ross was, and that alone was enough to make me mad. If he wanted a fight, then I'll give him one.

I turn back around just in time to see his fist coming towards my face once again, though this time I dodge my head to the side, before reaching up and grabbing his fist with my own. Without even thinking about it, I send a jolt of electricity through it, causing him to shriek with pain and instantly wrench his hand from my grasp. He draws further back, staggering, allowing me to pull myself properly to my feet and move after him. He sees me coming, however, and quickly reaches down to pull a gun from his belt. He aims it to my face but before he can manage to fire it, I lift my own hand up and wrap it around the barrel, wrenching it to the side and away from my face.

He keeps a tight grip on it though, which causes him to lean down as he attempts to pull it from my grasp. Knowing that he was now in a vulnerable position, I release my grip on the gun as quickly as I had grabbed it before I then swing my leg out, catching him right in the face. He growls and releases the grip on the gun, staggering back as it drops harmlessly to the ground. Following after it, I raise a clenched fist in the air before I then slam it hard and fast on the ground, creating a small shock wave in the earth that causes Blonsky to fly backwards and land hard on his back.

He shouts out in frustration and pulls himself to his feet, a murderous expression on his face as he rushes towards me once more. I move to meet him halfway, however, leaping up and using his left knee to push up and swing the rest of my body behind him, curling my legs around his neck. Clasping my hands together, I begin to repetitively slam my elbows onto the top of his skull. I manage to get a few good hits on him before he reaches up and grabs my shoulders. Before I have time to properly react, he hurls me up and above his head, flipping me over until my black slams on the ground in front of him, the impact causing for the wind to be knocked out of me.

Gasping for air that my burning lungs desperately needed but couldn't seem to get, I watch as Blonsky's shadow looms over me. I barely have enough time to see the glint of metal in his hand as he raises it up and above his head before he then brings the object down towards my face.

 _Knife._

The single thought causes me to raise my hands at the last possible second, wrapping my hands around his and preventing him from burying the tip of his knife in my skull.

The next few moments consist of a power struggle between the two of us, with Blonsky attempting to push the knife down into my face, while I attempt to push it back and away from me. But I knew that it was only a matter of time before my arms gave out, with Blonsky being far too strong for me to keep pushing against. He was a lot stronger than me, what with the super soldier serum flowing through his veins, giving him the extra strength that he was seconds away from using to kill me.

The thought has me gasping in fear, scrunching my face up in pain as I exerted all of the strength that I could muster as I attempted to keep the knife from piercing my skin. But with my strength slowly fading, Blonsky manages to lower it, even more, the tip of it piercing the soft skin just above my right brow, tearing it open as easy as tearing paper, causing blood to spill from the wound and down my face.

Blinking through the red that now clouded my vision, I look up to see Blonsky looking down at me, his lips pulled back into a delighted sneer. "I'd thought with your gifts that you'd give me a real fight," he half snarls, his breath fanning down and onto my face. "But you're just as pathetic as your cousin."

His words cause me to let out a frustrated growl, growing even more determined to beat him. With blood still pouring down my face, I swing my leg up and across his face, digging my boot into his nose with a satisfying crack.

He howls in pain as blood pours from his nose, some splashing down to mix with my own. It does the trick, however, as his grip on the knife loosens, causing me to wrench it from his grasp and fling it to the side, far away from the two of us so that he can't grab it. As he clutches his nose above me, I reach up and clasp on either side of his face, sending one last volt of electricity through his skin. Only this time, I make it three times as stronger as the one that I had used before.

He slackens in my arms, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as I shove him to the side so that he doesn't fall on top of me. Panting due to the amount of energy that I had used in the past forty seconds, I roll away from him onto my stomach and slowly push myself upright. Looking up, I see Ross looking at both myself and still unconscious Blonsky on the ground beside me in both horror and astonishment.

With blood still trickling down my face, I use the sleeve of my jacket to wipe it from my face. "I guess...I guess your super soldier, wasn't all that...that super. Was he, Ross?" I ask smugly in between pants, my chest heaving up and down with each breath that I took. Seeing that he was at lost for words, I take a moment to catch my breath, resting my hands on my knees. Knowing that Blonsky wasn't going to be waking up any time soon, I divert my attention towards the Hulk.

Much to my relief, he's slowly pulling himself to his knees, grabbing at the piece of metal that he had tossed to the side moments before. Still roaring in pain, he slowly rips the metal in half before he then struggles to pull himself upright, so that he was now standing rather than kneeling. Facing the direction of one of the vehicles, he places one of the slabs of metal in front of him, to block the sound waves coming from one of the sonic cannons. Then, before anyone has time to react, the Hulk throws one of the slabs of metal towards the cannon his was blocking.

With a wave of my hands, I create two gusts of wind that flings the soldiers from both inside and on top of the vehicle out of the way of the oncoming piece of metal, both of them screaming in both terror and surprise as they land gently on the ground safely away from the vehicle, just as the metal slab slices it in half. As it cuts through the engine, the vehicle suddenly goes up in flames, both it and the destroyed cannon being engulfed by the flames in an instant.

The Hulk then turns to the other cannon, before mustering all of his strength and leaping into the air directly towards it with his fist raised. He's so high up that the waves don't reach him, preparing to stab the second vehicle with the second piece of metal. I remove the two soldier's from this vehicle in the same manner that I had for the other two, removing them safely just as the Hulk lands on top of the cannon and driving the sharp object straight through the middle of it.

"Wheres the gunship?" I hear Ross demand angrily from behind me.

I whirl around after gently placing the soldiers on the ground and stalk back towards the general at his words. Betty stood a little behind him, shooting her father a look of terror mixed with disbelief, though I paid little attention to her as I demand, "Gunship? You're not seriously sending a heavily armed helicopter to shoot at the Hulk while there are civilians around!? Are you joking or naturally this stupid?"

He snarls incomprehensibly at this, though he manages to snarl out, "One of the best pilots in the world is on that helicopter. Civilians will be fine."

"You clearly haven't been paying the slightest of attention to what just happened, have you?" I snap in response. "Bullets bounce right of Bruce's skin!"

He opens his mouth to argue back, though the sound of a machine gun effectively cuts him off. The two of us simultaneously turn at the sound, and I'm surprised to see that Blonsky has recovered from the state I left him in and was now firing at the Hulk who started to slowly walk towards the soldier, his face contorted into an expression of absolute fury. Blonsky keeps firing, clearly not understanding like Ross that bullets couldn't penetrate the Hulk's green skin, though he only tosses his weapon to the side when he stops directly in front of the Hulk. The sight of the much smaller soldier standing against the larger Hulk could almost be considered comical, though it sends only shivers down my spine. If I was Blonsky, then I would hate to be where he was standing right now, with the Hulk staring down at him the way that he was.

"Is that it?" He asks the Hulk, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Blonsky, pull back," Ross orders quietly into the walkie talkie. When Blonsky doesn't move away from the Hulk almost instantly after, Ross repeats what he said, firmer this time. "Blonsky, pull back _now_!"

At his second command, Blonsky rips the small communication device from his ear so that Ross could no longer tell him what to do. Throwing it to the side, he looks back up at the Hulk and asked in the same sarcastic tone, "Is that all you got?"

I don't think Blonsky would've had time to move out of the way of the Hulk's leg as it kicked it's leg out towards him, even if he had known that it was coming.

As it makes contact with the soldier, Blonsky goes flying through the air before landing on the ground and rolling fast towards a tree where he hits it so fast and hard, you could practically hear the smack as his body collided with the thick trunk. He leans against it motionlessly for a moment, before then falling back on his back, blood covering his entire neck and face and probably the rest of his body. His arms, legs and necks are all jutted out at different angles and the sight almost makes me want to throw up. I hear Betty gasp beside me, reaching up to cover her mouth with her hand at the sickening sight.

 _Oh, God._

If Blonsky wasn't dead, then he as going to wish that he was.

"Fall back!" Ross orders his soldiers before he starts to walk backwards also, not even giving Blonsky a second glance. That made me even angrier but I didn't call him out on it. Instead, I swallow the bile in the back of my throat before I then move slowly back towards a shaking Betty and gently placed my own shaking hand on her shoulder.

"Are you hurt?" I ask her weakly, trying my hardest not to think about the body behind us. When she shakes her pale head, I nod and start to gently tug her away from the soldiers and the Hulk. "C'mon. I'll get you out of here and then I'll come back for Bruce."

"Wait," she protests, stopping in her tracks as she stares at the Hulk who was pacing in a circle, his eyes on the retreating soldiers. When his eyes lock with Betty's though, he stops and the hard glare on his face vanishes and is replaced with a look of recognition. And before I can say anything to her, Betty starts to walk slowly forward towards the still Hulk.

I know trying to drag her in the opposite direction was no use- she was too stubborn and she would put up one hell of a fight in trying to stay until Bruce returned. So this time, I follow quietly after, my arms raised in front of me, ready to create a barrier between us and the Hulk if he suddenly turned nasty again. I kept my distance, however, seeing as the Hulk wasn't reacting badly to Betty didn't necessarily mean he wouldn't react badly to me.

Betty stops about seven yards away from the Hulk, myself roughly four more yards behind her as she looks up at the Hulk in awe. She mutters his name once before the sound of a helicopter chopper suddenly fills the air. I look up to see that the gunship that Ross had been demanding for before had finally arrived at the university as it flew in from the south-east. Before I can scream at Betty to run and take cover, the helicopter starts firing at the Hulk, filling the air with the sound of gunshots.

Betty screams just as I throw my hand in the air to create an air shield around her but it appears that I had nothing to worry about. The Hulk moved into motion and rushed towards Betty and pulled her close to his body as he curled over her, shielding her body from the bullets with his own. I freeze in shock as I watch this and this makes me let my guard down. So I had no one else to blame but myself when a stray bullet from the helicopter hit me in my shoulder.

I scream as pain flares up from where the bullet pierces my skin and instinctively place my right hand on the bullet hole in my left shoulder, blood oozing from it. The area in my flesh that surrounds the bullet feels as if it's on fire and I can feel the piece of burning hot metal in my body. Knowing that I could get hit from some more bullets at any second, I raise my left hand shakily in the air and create a protective air bubble around me before then dropping my arm, hissing in pain as more blood oozes from the wound. I feel tears form in my eyes and a lump also forms in the back of my throat before I turn my head towards a screaming Ross, who was waving at the helicopter and yelling frantically, "Do not fire!'

His attempts were feeble, however, as the sound of gunshots and the blades on the helicopter were far too loud for the general's pleas to be heard- I could barely hear him myself. I could hear the roar of the Hulk though and when I looked back towards where he protectively crouched over Betty, I saw him fling one of the slabs of metal he was still holding towards the swirling blades of the helicopter. The metal slices the blades apart, causing the chopper to fall to the ground as the pilot lost control, exploding on impact.

Fire from the explosion came hurtling toward Betty, the Hulk and myself and I manage to see the Hulk once again crouch over Betty, covering her body with his own before the two of them disappear in a cloud of fire. The fire continues to spread towards me, but the bubble of air stops in its tracks. Knowing that I was immune to the fire's flames, I drop the protective bubble and throw my bloodstained hands up towards the oncoming flames.

I use my powers to draw the fire into my hand and away from the Hulk and Betty, using my powers to absorb it, doing so not hurting me in the slightest. Raising one hand to the sky, I twirl my hand around as I take control of the moisture in the clouds and fill them up even more with water so that they start to drop their small droplets of water to the ground, using the moisture to create some rain, hoping that it would help extinguish the fire.

When the fire is completely gone and all that remains is the smoke, I see the Hulk rise up from his crouching position with a limp Betty in his hands. I feel fear rack through my body as I see hers, as I can't tell whether or not she was unconscious rather than dead. I had promised Bruce that I would keep her safe- I had now done the opposite of that and now she was either hurt or dead because I couldn't keep that promise.

The Hulk looks down at her before it looks up at me and to my utter amazement, it nods it's head at me as if to say that Betty was indeed alive. A feeling of relief spreads throughout my body and I can't help drop to my knees in relief, as the rain continues to pour down my face.

 _"Betty!"_ I hear Ross scream from behind me and I weakly turn around to see him staring at his daughter's limp body in horror, his hands shaking as he stands in the rain. Despite all his faults and ugly traits, I guess he really did love his daughter like Bruce claimed he did. I keep my mouth shut though, as I realise that he was the reason that this had happened. Why Bruce had changed and tried to hurt those soldiers. Why the university grounds had turned into a battlefield. Why Betty was hurt and why I had been shot. Hell, if it hadn't of been for him, then none of this would have happened. Bruce never would have become the Hulk because he never would have done the experiment. It was Ross' fault. All of it.

The Hulk seems to understand this too because when it locks eyes with the general, the look on its face hardens before it then snarls and bares its teeth at Ross. Ross doesn't react though- he's too busy focused on Betty, who looked much like a tiny doll in the Hulk's massive hands.

The Hulk casts the general one last dirty look before it turns around and disappears in the cloud of smoke, taking Betty along with him.

I pull myself slowly to my feet, though I notice that they're quite shaky. With my hand still pressed against my shoulder to try and stop the flow of blood coming out of my shoulder, I look up and immediately lock gaze with Ross, who was staring at me in wonder. I don't get why until I realise that he's looking at me like that because he just saw what I could do. I curse myself silently as I remember Fury's warning to not show my powers in front of Ross- that he could try and use my power's for his own agenda, much like he had attempted to do so with the Hulk.

He now takes a step towards me and I take one back. He raises his hand, his palm flat and facing me before he calls out loudly to me, "Wait!"

It's too late though. I'm already bending my knees and pushing off from the ground and flying away from him and the rest of the soldiers and university the moment that he raises his hand.


	10. Chapter 9: Aftermath

_Lights blared down from the roof above me so brightly, that I can't help but squint my eyes shut against their harsh gleam. They were so bright that I couldn't see too far in front of me, though I didn't need to see to know that roughly several feet away from me was a glass wall, with three different scientists observing me through the thick glass. Ever since I had first started being placed in this room, they had always watched and would continue to do so. Not just for their own sick pleasure, but also because they wanted to see if their cruel experiments were working._

" _Good morning Subject 2-0-7," Greets a voice, speaking in a thick, Swiss accent. It was the same voice as it always was, and I couldn't help but detect an almost robotic tone underlying the words. "How are you feeling today?"_

 _It was always the same routine. They would lock me in the chair, blind me with the lights and then attempt to make small talk with me, as if this was just normal, morning routine for them. Then again, since I was one out of hundreds of other people they tortured in this place, this probably was a typical morning for them._

 _And every time that they said this, I would only send a harsh glare towards the glass in front of me. "My name," I hiss. "Is not Subject 2-0-7. It's Lydia Hathaway. You'd think that after all this time, you arse holes would finally start calling me by my name."_

 _I can sense their amusement rather than see it, knowing that each of them probably wore smirks on their thin, sneered faces. Though it's only the man with the German accent whoever speaks to me. The other two only stand there quietly, only ever observing and listening to the sound of my screams bounce off the dull, grey walls of the room._

" _Perhaps out there in the world, you were Lydia Hathaway," The man replies, the amusement in his tone causing me to wrench my hands up and away from the arms of the chair, hoping in vain that the movement would at least loosen the handcuffs wrapped firmly around my hands, though it's to no avail. "But in here, that girl no longer exists. In here, in this very room, you are only subject 2-0-7. Nothing more, and nothing less. Your only purpose is to fulfil our requirements of the experiments that we are conducting."_

" _Gee. Lucky me."_

 _This time he chuckles. "Yes," He says. "You really are."_

 _Even though my entire body ached from the experiments I had been forced to endure the previous day, I find the strength to tilt my head to the side, shooting the glass a look of total disbelief. "Seriously? Do you not grasp the concept of sarcasm?"_

" _It's best not to move, subject 2-0-7," Is my only reply, the familiar words chilling me to the core. I knew them well enough to realise that the small talk was now over: they were only seconds away from inflicting their daily round of torture. And though I had been forced to endure it for six months now, it still wasn't something that I could brace myself for._

 _Aching, stinging, blinding, prominent pain-_

 _I shake my head, all cockiness and anger subsiding to be replaced only with pure terror, desperately trying to wrench myself free from the constraints, though like before this proves unsuccessful. "Please_ _ **don't**_ _-"_

" _Proceed."_

As if being struck by lightning, my eyes fling open and a gasp involuntarily escapes past my lips, the memories disappearing from my mind as quickly as they had come in the first place. For a moment I am blinded from something high above me, and for a fleeting, terrifying second, I immediately jump to the conclusion that I was back in that dreadful room, strapped to that awful chair. But upon feeling something soft beneath my fingers and realising that I wasn't sitting in a chair and was instead lying on what appears to be grass, my fear subsides slightly.

It takes my eyes a moment to adjust to the light pouring down from above, though when they do, I'm surprised to find that I was lying flat on my back in a clearing, trees and thistles surrounding me from every side. The light from above, I quickly figure out, is only the sun, and if I listened carefully, I could hear cars honking in the distance and water running somewhere close by.

Upon registering that there was something hot and sticky on my face, I raise my stiff hand up to wipe at the strange sensation, before drawing my hand away to find that my hand was drenched with blood, though the tips of my fingers were covered with some of the fresh, red substance. The sight causes me to both blanch and recoil in shock, though the movement causes me to gasp as an intense pain throbs in the space just below my left shoulder. Gritting my teeth, I slowly drag myself upright into a seating position and turn down to look at the space that was still throbbing with pain. And at the sight of the bullet sized hole in both my blood-stained shirt and skin, I can't help but cry out in shock.

Everything that had occurred earlier comes rushing back to me at the sight, flashing across the back of my eyes. Ross cornering us at the University. Betty seeing Bruce change into the Hulk for the first time. Blonsky. The revelation that Ross had lied to Bruce and Betty in order to get them to recreate the serum, bringing the Hulk into existence. The fact that Ross had created a modified serum and injecting Blonsky with it, resulting in him becoming some form of a super soldier. The sounds of the gunfire and the soldier's screaming, the bullet tearing into my skin-

 _I've been shot._

Feeling dizzy at this realisation, I place my head in my hands without even registering the fact that they were still covered in blood. Blood was still oozing from the wound in my skin, though it was nowhere near as much as it had been when I had first been shot, however long ago that had been. Frowning at the thought, I recall the way that I had fled from the university after Ross had seen the extent to my powers, flying without direction and just knowing that I had to get as far away from him and the university as possible. But after just minutes of flying, everything just seemed like a blur. I can dimly remember the way that black dots had begun to fill my vision as I slowly lowered myself to the ground in what I thought was a secluded area in a park. After that, all I could remember was crawling across the dirt and then giving into oblivion completely.

So that explained as to why I was sitting in the middle of the clearing. But it didn't answer how long I had been out for, or where exactly this park was. I had been practically delirious as I had flown away, due to a mixture of the amount of blood I had lost and as the adrenaline that I had relied on during the fiasco at the university slowly leaving my system.

Thinking quickly, I reach down with my good arm to pull my phone from the back of my pocket, dismayed to find that the screen was cracked in at least several places, do doubt consequently from my fight with Blonsky. Though pressing the home button informed me that though cracked, it wasn't entirely broken and the time on the top of the screen informed me that only an hour and a half had passed since Betty, Bruce and I had first made it to the University. Which meant that I had been out for at least fifteen minutes.

If I was still alive and somewhat functioning, then it meant that the bullet must have missed any vital organs, but it was still buried in my skin. With the amount of blood that I was losing and had already lost, I knew that I was going to have to dig the bullet out and stitch both it and possibly the cut above my brow soon, otherwise I was going to be in serious trouble- even if the bullet being in my skin was still preventing a lot more blood loss that I could have been experiencing. Going to a hospital was far too risky though, especially going to one here in Willowdale. Ross had seen me get shot in the shoulder, then a hospital was the first place that he would expect me to go. And if I was Ross' best chance at tracking down both Betty and Bruce, then I knew he was coming for me: regardless of the fact that he had seen what I was capable of.

There was always the option of going to a smaller doctor's clinic, though doing so was only going to draw unwanted attention towards me from not only the doctors but the other patients as well. It wasn't every day that someone in Willowdale just waltzed right into a room with a bullet wound, covered in an alarmingly large amount of blood. If Ross was checking the hospitals, then I didn't doubt for a second that he would be checking smaller clinics as well. And let's not forget the fact that if I did seek out professional medical help, then that was only going to get the police involved thanks to the fact that I had been shot.

Which meant that my only other option, was digging out the bullet myself.

I grimace at the thought, though I knew that it was the only safe option that I had now. The question was though, _where_ was I supposed to do it? It needed to be a place with a first aid kit. Stan's could be a safe place. He had allowed both Bruce and I to hide in the top of his shop, so I didn't doubt that he would do so again. But the problem was that he and the rest of his staff were probably only halfway through their lunch rush, meaning that the restaurant would be streaming with customers and workers alike, who would easily see my bloodied state or hear the sounds of the screams that I knew I was going to create as I dug around in my flesh to pry the bullet out. Besides, I didn't want to get him involved if I could help it. Ross hadn't connected me with the friendly pizza shop owner, and I'd rather it remain that way.

There was still one other option though: Betty's house.

I knew that she wouldn't have gone back home with the Hulk taking off in the complete opposite direction at the University, probably taking off somewhere where Ross and his soldiers couldn't find them. Our bags were already packed there: we hadn't bothered bringing them along with us when we had left, as they had contained nothing but dirty clothes that Betty had promised she would send to us once it was safe to do so. Which meant that Betty's house was empty, and she probably only had a first aid kit in there somewhere.

Of course, there was the chance that Ross was there now, searching the premises to see if there was anything that he could find there that would lead him to either Bruce, Betty or me. Though there wasn't anything that he could find there that would do so: we had left behind nothing but clothes, and the phone that I was currently gripping in my hand had certain SHIELD technology in it, that made it untraceable, meaning he couldn't use it to find me. If he was at Betty's, then he was only going to be so for a short while.

With that thought in mind, I inhale sharply as I slowly pull myself to my feet, groaning in pain as I do so. With my knees buckling beneath me as the pain increased, I only grit my teeth in determination and silently reason with myself that I needed to move. If I didn't then I was only going to bleed out right here in the clearing and die.

This thought alone is enough to get me to slowly move forward, sweat glistening on my forehead and already mixing with the blood that still stained my skin. With my breath coming out short and shallow, I move forward in a dazed state, stumbling and groaning as I finally reach the path, almost walking straight into a girl and boy who had been walking from the opposite direction.

They take one look at me before the two of them break into screams, the girl jumping about a mile in the air. The boy, on the other hand, yells and raises a hand to point at me, his face stricken with terror. _"Zombie!"_ He screams.

I shoot him a confused look, though thinking about it logically, I couldn't blame the guy for calling me a zombie. With blood covering half my face and clothes as I stumbled along the path, groaning as I do so, I gather that it was an easy mistake to make. But a stupid one all the same.

"I'm not a zombie," I growl, watching as relief washes over his face, clearly relieved that I wasn't a creature from the Walking Dead, though my words only cause the girl to shrink back even further. "I'm very...very much alive."

"Don't look it," He replies faintly.

 _Don't feel it either._ "Where...where ex-exactly am I?"

"The park?"

It takes everything within me to not to roll my eyes at this. "I gathered th-that. I-I meant which park?"

"Doveton Street Park?"

It wasn't much, but at least it was a start. Nodding thankfully at them, I step to the side so that I would be able to walk past them, though the girl flinches the moment that I lift my leg. I freeze at this only just noticing just how terrified she looked as she stared back at me as if she expected me to attack her at any moment. The realisation that she believed I would hurt her hits me like a slap in the face, as I slowly raise the hand that wasn't pressed against the bullet wound in my shoulder, to show her that I meant her no harm. "I'm n-not going to hurt y-you," I quietly assure her.

Her lips tremble at this. "You're- you're that girl from Culver, are-aren't you?"

I freeze at her words, panic seeping within me at the fact that she could recognise me. If that was the case, then there was a chance that Ross had already put an alert out to track me, meaning that the walk back to Betty's was only going to be harder.

But after a moment I brief panicking, I silently tell myself to calm down: with only fifteen minutes had passed since I last saw Ross, there was the chance that he hadn't had the time to put out an APB on me just yet, if he was still dealing with the aftermath of the battle. There could be some other logical explanation for why this girl recognised me or at least knew enough about what had happened at Culver to piece together who it was. So, trying my best to keep level headed, I ask her, "Were you there?"

It's not her that answers, but her friend still beside her. "N-no. No, but our friend was. He sent us a video, and we saw a video of the green thing and... everything..."

 _And everything._ Everything could potentially mean that they had seen my face in the video. And if their friend had sent it to them, then there was a high possibility that they had sent it to others as well, meaning that I could be more recognisable now, which could also make it easier for Ross to find me.

Then again, the fact that I looked like I just came out of a slaughterhouse could also grab people's attention.

I needed to cover up and I needed to do so quickly.

Noticing that the boy was wearing a hoodie, I jerk my chin towards it. "Have you...have you got something u-underneath that?"

His eyes widen in surprise at the sudden and random question, his hands automatically reaching out to grab the hem of the worn material. "Uh, yeah? Just a t-shirt... um, why-"

"G-give it to- to me," I demand firmly, having to suppress a wince at both how blunt my words were, and the way that they both flinched with fear as they realised what it was that I was asking for. The last thing that I wanted to do was to demand and then take the hoodie from them as rudely as I was, but I knew that if I wasn't firm, then the last thing that I was intimidating. They could clearly tell I was hurt, and if they decided to take off at any point, then there was a strong chance that I wouldn't be able to stop them.

I didn't want to take the hoodie. But it would be incredibly useful for both hiding my face and covering up my blood-stained clothes and skin.

Clearly simply demanding the piece of clothing wasn't going to work. So, trying for a new tactic, I slowly remove my hand from the bullet wound in my shoulder, watching as they blanch at the sight ragged wound adorning my skin. "L-look. I've been- I've been shot-"

"Call 911," The girl shakily orders the boy, though he appears to find the sight of the wound too sickening as he turns an ugly shade of green and makes no move to do as the girl asks.

Swallowing thickly, I continue, "I-I need t-to get out of h-here without being s-seen and...and without drawing t-too much attention to myself. So please...please can, can you j-just give me the hoodie."

Attempting to their sense of humanity didn't seem to work either, as the two of them continued to just stand there and stare, resembling two deer in the lights of an oncoming bus. With the boy making no move to remove his hoodie, I can't help but let out an annoyed huff. Time was of the essence here, and while these two happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time, I desperately needed what I was demanding. The longer I stayed here and try to convince the two of them to cooperate with me, the easier it would become for Ross to track me down and the more likely that I would bleed to death right there in front of them.

 _Desperate times call for desperate measures._

Raising both my hands and pressing one of them to my wound once more, I keep the other held up before I then click my fingers, allowing them to be engulfed with bright, orange flames, watching as they gape and watch as the flames dance against my hand.

"I'm- I'm going to a-ask one m-more time," I say through gritted teeth. "Give me. The hoodie. _Please_."

They quickly complied.

* * *

The walk back to Betty's was as about as comfortable as I expected it to be, with blood still pooling from my wound and my head spinning painfully:

Not bloody comfortable in the _slightest._

By some miracle, I made it back to the quaint house without falling face first onto the pavement. There were a few times where I had stumbled and had been forced to come to a stop altogether to catch my breath, but I always seemed to find the will to keep moving forward. Which was the last thing that my tiring body wanted to do, though my brain had reasoned that the sooner I get to Betty's, the sooner that I could properly rest.

The hoodie was far too big on my body, though in a way it worked to my advantage. It's loose fitting not only suited my aching body, but the actual hood part of it had kept most of my face hidden by other people that walked past. If it hadn't, then they would have undoubtedly noticed the dry blood that was streaked across my face and called either the police or an ambulance. The latter was something that I oh so desperately wanted but knew that I couldn't have, not when there was a strong possibility that Ross was looking for me.

I almost let out a cry of relief as I finally made it to the block that Betty's house was on. But my relief was short-lived, as it was instantly washed away at the sight of three army vehicles parked out front of the house.

As soldiers streamed in and out of the house, I quickly turned on my heel and began shuffling back in the direction that I had originally come from. Sending a silent string of curses and insults to none other than General Asshole himself for putting a kink in my plans, I make a beeline for the running track that ran along the back of Betty's house. If I couldn't walk through the front door as I had originally planned, then I would wait out back until Ross and the rest of his goons left.

Knowing perfectly well that I didn't have the strength to vault over the top of Betty's back fence, I simply flicked the hand that wasn't pressed to my chest and floated gently over the top of it. The moment that my feet sunk into the soft green grass on the other side, I immediately moved to crouch down and hide in the group of bushes that grew along the side of her house. Upon dimly hearing two voices talking on what was the front porch, I bite through the pain and begin to crawl closer towards them. It was a big risk I knew, as doing so could reveal to whoever the voices belonged to that I was hiding in the bushes. Ross would be alerted of my presence in an instant and I didn't think that I had the strength to make a hasty escape once more.

But another part of me reasoned that by crawling closer to them, I could eavesdrop on whatever it was they were discussing. Doing so could provide me with vital information such as where they believed that Bruce had gone, whether they were still searching for me and what exactly it was that they were doing at the house in the first place. But as I crawled closer and peered through the tiniest gaps between the fernery, I am greeted with the sight of a solemn Samson sitting on a porch chair while Ross stood in front of him.

"You did the right thing, calling," Ross says to him.

I have to slap my hand over my mouth to prevent an angry growl tear past my lips, knowing perfectly well that any sound that I made would reveal to the two men exactly where I was. Not particularly wanting Ross to find me, I bite down lightly on my fingers as my blood boils with a new-found rage, that surprisingly wasn't directed at the angry general not even several feet away from me. Instead, my fury was due to the man sitting in front of him.

Samson had been the one to tell Ross where Bruce was. It had been Samson that had brought Ross to the university in the first place, which had consequently resulted in nothing but chaos. Samson was partly responsible for everything that had happened- including Bruce's transformation, Betty's near-death experience and the bullet that was still embedded in my skin.

"Do you have any idea where it is that they're going?" Ross asks. "Or where the blonde woman, Lydia went? Because if Betty's with them, she's going to be in incredible danger and will continue to be so until we find them."

"From who?" Samson snaps, and I'm surprised to detect anger in his words. I wasn't the only person that Ross had pissed off. "He protected her. It was you who almost killed her.," He adds, his words revealing to me that he had been there to witness some of the fighting at Culver and had seen the aftermath of the chaos.

"I give you my word, that her safety is my main concern at his point-"

That, and the fact that he also wanted my head on a plate and the faulty gamma radiation that was flowing through Bruce's veins now, responsible for turning him into the Hulk whenever he got mad. But Ross wasn't stupid: under no circumstances would he reveal his true intentions to Samson. Not when he was trying to manipulate him into telling him where it was that Betty and Bruce had gone. Though, I suppose it didn't matter much. Samson had no clue what it was that the three of us had been up to. He was just another dead end for Ross to smack right into.

"You know, it's a point of professional pride in me that I can always tell when someone's lying," Samson abruptly interrupts him. "And you are. I don't know where he's going. Or the girl, for that matter. But I know that Betty will help him if she can."

There's a brief pause on Ross' behalf, and I'm very tempted to straighten up and peek over the edge of the ledge to see the look on his face. But knowing that there was a strong chance that the two of them would see me, I remain silent and crouched down in the bush. Eventually, Ross replies in a low voice, "Then she's aiding a fugitive. And I can't help either one of them."

Knowing perfectly well that he was lying, I bite down harder on my hand as the temptation to straighten up and scream abuse at him only grows. But it appears that I didn't have to worry about doing so, as Samson cuts me to the chase and snaps bitterly, "You know, I used to wonder why it was that she never talked about you. And now? Now I can see why."

Ross finally understands that he wasn't going to get anywhere with Betty's angry boyfriend any time soon, as I hear him mumble something incoherently under his breath. Without saying another word to Samson, I hear him turn and walk down the steps of the house, marching towards the van with an angry stride to his steps. Betty and their strained relationship were obviously a touchy subject for him then, and my anger for Samson subsides slightly as I realise that he technically had the last word with Ross.

 _Slightly._

I don't dare move from my hiding place until well and truly after the vehicle that Ross and his loyal soldiers had piled in tears off down the street, waiting another two minutes just for good measure. During this time, Samson remains on the porch to watch him go before he then moves inside, the door closing with a soft 'click', though I don't hear him slide the lock in place. Once he's inside, I painfully pull myself upright, before then moving around the front porch and up the front steps, towards the door. Not bothering to knock or announce my presence, I reach down and wrench the knob to the side, flinging it open and stalking angrily into Betty's house.

Samson hadn't made it that far, as he stands halfway down the hall, his back to me. But as I slam the door closed behind me with my foot, he turns, his eyes practically bulging out of his head at the sight of me, bloody, and standing in front of him. " _Lydia?_ What the hell? I-"

"You've got about two minutes to explain to me...why, why the hell y-you did what you did," I snarl weakly. "T-talk fast."

Confusion seeps into his face at this, though once he realises what it is that I'm talking about, the confusion is replaced with fear and guilt. "I called Ross-"

"No shit."

"I called him when I came by and saw the three of you leaving this morning," He admits mournfully.

"You're- you're the reason that h-he sh-showed up at the Uni," I snap shakily, hoping that I sounded as angry as I felt. "You're the r-reason they caught...they caught up to us. C-caused Bruce to change. _You_ almost killed Betty!"

Tears glisten deep within his eyes at my words, and it's then that I realise that he saw the truth in what I was saying. "I know!" He shouts desperately. "And I realise my mistake- I saw the way he protected her. I never, never should have called Ross, but I was-"

"What? _Jealous?"_ I hiss, ignoring the way that my head spun slightly as I spoke. "I-I don't care if you were jealous. You have no idea- no idea what that man, is capable of. You've just... you've just added m-more fuel to the fire-"

As the world started to spin, I cut off, flinging my hands out just in time to grab a hold of the railing of the stairs beside me, practically falling against them. Samson makes a noise mixed with both concern and worry, though I don't give him the chance to speak as I shakily say, "You...you in-interfered with something that you have-have no clue about. So next time you get jealous, take it up with your girlfriend and not her...father," I snap, black dots appearing across my vision. With the dizziness increasing, my legs give out beneath me and I slowly sink to the ground, bringing my knees to my chest. With my breathing coming out short and shallow, I'm dimly aware of Samson hurrying towards me, asking me something that I couldn't quite decipher due to the ringing in my ears.

 _Not good._

"Holy _mother_ ," I breathe as a wave of exhaustion crashes over me. Lashing out at Samson like I just had, had taken more out of me than I intended. The shouting, the arguing and the fact that I had been shot hadn't helped matters either. I needed to get stitched up, and I needed to do so quickly.

But it appears that my body had other things in mind, as my head only heavily fell against my knees once more, my arms slackening until they fell to the side beside me. "Just give me a minute," I tried to say to the worrying head shrink beside me, though I didn't think it came out as comprehensible as I thought it did. He only continued to talk hastily beside me, though I couldn't properly discern what it was that he was saying. All I could do was close my eyes gently as the wave of exhaustion increased, the world falling away altogether.

* * *

The first thing that I quickly discover when I wake up, is that I'm no longer slumped against Betty's staircase.

Shooting up at this, I immediately curse as my skull explodes with pain and the room spins. Groaning, I squeeze my eyes shut and press the palms of my hands to my face, praying that the dizziness would subside. I don't know how long that I sat wherever the hell I was like that for, but I refused to pull my hands away until I returned to a somewhat normal state. Only then did I resurface, bringing my head up once more and discovering that I was sitting on top of Betty's table in the kitchen.

 _How the hell did I get up here?_

Frowning, I glance down and find that I was no longer wearing the dirty, blood-stained hoodie that I had stolen from the boy in the park either. Instead, I found myself in a grey shirt, that was a little bit too big on my body. It came down to my mid-thigh, though it was slim enough for me to guess that it belonged to a female. And due to the faint scent of jasmine that I could pick up on it, I quickly realise that it was probably one of Betty's.

The second thing that I discover, is that the pain that I had felt from where I had been shot earlier had faded. It was no longer a harsh, burning hot pain that I was feeling, but a dull ache instead. Gingerly, I reach up towards the neckline of my shirt and pull it away, looking down and discovering that a fresh bandage had been taped over the skin that the bullet had pierced, the skin surrounding it no longer stained red.

"I got it out for you. I also patched up the cut on your head as well." Comes a masculine voice from the doorway. Jumping with fright, I look up and see that Samson had entered the kitchen, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. There were blotches of blood on the edges of them, and the startling realisation that this was my blood causes my blue eyes to widen.

If he notices my surprise then he doesn't comment on it, as he only pulls out something from his back pocket. Peering at it, I see that it's a small pill bottle, but I was too far away to see the writing on its side. "Iron supplement tablets," He says before he then tosses it in the air towards me. I reach up with my good arm and catch it easily, as he further elaborates, "Betty needed them a couple months back. Considering the amount of blood that you've lost, I figured that you would need a couple yourself."

"Thanks," I reply hoarsely, only then noticing the burning fire in the back of my throat: I desperately needed a drink. But it appears that Samson was thinking the same, as he starts to move towards the kitchen sink, grabbing a glass from Betty's cupboard as he goes. "I thought you were a head shrink. Not a doctor," I murmur.

"The correct term is psychiatrist," He replies, not unkindly as he starts to fill the glass with water. "But uh, I've picked up on some other talents over the years."

 _Of course, you have_ , I think silently to myself. I only remain silent though, waiting patiently until he brings the glass of water over to me. Thanking him again, I pry it from his hands and pop the correct number of pills in my mouth before then bringing the glass up to my lips. I drink all of it in three, greedy gulps, exhaling sharply as I lower the glass once more. Samson offers to take it, and I nod in thanks as he does so. "How long have I been out for?"

"Two hours. You were pretty out of it when you came here as well."

"Well, I still remember that you told Ross where to find us," I bite out.

He winces, not looking me in the eye as he places the glass in the sink. "I made a mistake," He admits. "But I only called him because I was worried about Betty. And now..." He trails off, reaching up to tug at his short, dark strands in frustration. It's then that I notice that there was a slight shake to them, though whether it was from the adrenaline he would have needed to fix me up in time or genuine stress about the situation I didn't know.

"Now she's gone," I finish for him.

"Do you know where they are?"

"If I did, then I would be heading there now. The last time I saw them, they were heading away from the campus. They're probably well and truly out of Willowdale by now."

"So, what are you going to do?"

If only I knew the answer to that question myself. This morning I had woken up with a clear mind and a set of goals that could have easily been accomplished three hours ago. Leave Willowdale with Bruce. Find Mr Blue. Get the cure. Simple. But now that everything had gone to hell, there were obvious kinks in the plan.

The first and most crucial thing that I had to do was track Bruce and Betty down. Bruce had everything on Mr Blue so there was little for me to use to find him myself. Not only that, but there was no point in going and finding a cure when there was no one to give it to.

But searching for Bruce and Betty was the last thing that I could do now. I couldn't just take off in the state that I was in: I needed to rest. Not to mention that I didn't even know where to begin looking for them. Bruce may have taken off in one direction, but that didn't mean that he wasn't heading in an entirely different direction now: he could essentially be anywhere. There was no telling how far he had gotten either, or whether he was still the Hulk. Or if Betty was even alive.

I shake my head at this, casting the negative thought to the furthest corner of my mind. Panicking and thinking of any worse case scenarios wasn't going to do me any good. I needed to think sensibly and rationally here. "I'm going to rest," I finally answer the Doctor, straightening up as I do so. "I'm in no condition to be hurrying off after them while avoiding Ross at the same time."

He glances up at that, tugging nervously at his bottom lip with his teeth. "And then?" He presses.

I shrug my shoulders. "I don't know. I'll see if I can find them. It's not going to be easy, but I'll see if I can work out where it is that they are. I know some of Bruce's tactics and hiding patterns. It's not much to go from, but it's better than nothing..."

"I'll come with you-"

"Nope," I immediately cut off, not even considering the possibility. When he opens his mouth to undoubtedly protest this, I continue, "You're only going to slow me down. If I go alone, the quicker that I'll be able to find them. Not only that but if Ross finds out that you've taken off, then he'll come looking for you because he'll think that you know where they are. And in doing so, you're going to lead him directly to me."

He sags in defeat at this, and I'm a little surprised that he had given up as easily as he had. A part of me had expected him to fight me tooth and nail against this until I caved in and agreed to him tagging along. But all I could hope was that he could see where I was coming from: he would only complicate things further, which could end badly for Bruce, Betty and me.

"He wants you almost as bad as he wants Banner," He pipes up, curiosity lacing his words. "Why is that?"

Because I was an idiot and did the opposite of what Fury told me to do. And now I was going to pay the price for it. I don't voice this out loud to him, however, and instead only offer him another shrug of my shoulders. "He probably thinks that I know where Bruce took her. Or he wants me in for questioning- I don't know. But you have to promise that you won't tell him where I am. Because if I do, that's it. Game over. I'm the best person to find the two of them, and Ross won't let me do so once he has me."

Most of the words I had spoken were all lies, but I hoped that they would manipulate Samson enough to make him think that Betty was lost without me. It was an ugly thing for me to do, but it needed to be done to ensure my freedom. If he truly loved and cared about Betty as much as he said he did, then he would hopefully keep me concealed from Ross.

I have to refrain from letting out a sigh of relief as he nods his head in agreement. "OK. OK, I won't tell him that I saw you. But where are you going to go?"

I reach up with my good arm to gesture towards the kitchen around us. "Here. Even if it's only for one night. Betty's not coming back any time soon to use it. Considering that Ross has already checked out the place, I don't think that he'll be coming back any time soon either. And I highly doubt that he thinks that I'd come back here anyway."

"So, what do I do?"

"Go home. Don't come back here, and don't do anything stupid like trying to find Betty on your own. Bruce has been hiding from the government for years now, so you've got a minuscule chance of finding him. Ross is probably going to be keeping an eye on you, watching to see if anything comes up, or if Betty tries to contact you for any reason. So, if you want to help Betty then go home. Go back to work. Stick to your usual routine- don't do anything out of the ordinary."

"You can't just expect me to not do anything," He exclaims.

"As I said, if you want to help Betty then doing nothing is her best chance," I argue. "You already screwed up things enough once- don't do it a second time."

He flinches at this, and I almost regret the words at the sight. I don't apologise though, nor do I allow my face to soften. He had made a mistake that had nearly cost Betty and I our lives. There was no telling what he would do if he became anymore involved in the situation.

But at the same time, a small part of me did sympathise with him. He clearly cared a lot more about Betty and her safety than her own father did: perhaps he really had called Ross out of his love for her. But it didn't change what happened. Which is why I only add, "If anything comes up, then you'll be the first to know. I'll call your office or something."

He only nods solemnly at this, before he then slowly pushes away from the sink and moves towards the door. I watch him as he goes, and he's almost out the front door when I gently ease off the dining room table and hobble after him, my movements somewhat jerky as I went. I come to a stop in the doorway that he had appeared in ten minutes earlier, calling out, "Hey, Samson. I appreciate what you did."

He freezes where he stands with his arm stretched out towards the knob of the front door, though he doesn't turn around to face me. The only indication that I receive that he had heard me in the first place was a quick, jerk of his head. "I may have patched you up, but I'm not some miracle doctor," he says. "You'll need to get that wound checked out soon. Until you do, make sure you keep changing the dressings and replacing them with new ones. The last thing that you want is for it to get infected."

"Alright. I'll take care of it."

"Please just make sure she's safe," he adds. And then, with a simple turn of his wrist his vanishes past the open front door and into the night, letting the door close shut behind him.

* * *

 _'Rumours continue to swirl about a violent clash between forces of the US military and an unknown adversary on the campus of Culver University today...'_

The words spilling from the lips of the reporter on the television in front of me has me glancing up from the map in my hands towards the device instead. For the past hour and a half, I had sat on Betty's living room couch after washing the blood from my skin and changing into sweats and a button up shirt. I much would have preferred throwing on a warm and comfortable hoodie instead, but it would have required too much movement of my wounded arm in doing so.

After having something to eat and rummaging through Betty's drawers to find a map, I had settled in the lounge room and turned the television on simply so that there was some background noise while I peered at the map in front of me. I had been trying to see if I could figure out where the hell it was that Bruce may have moved off to when the words of the reporter had immediately caught my attention. And sure enough, when I look at the screen in front of me, I am greeted with the all too familiar sights of the wreckage and fight at the university today. I watch as injured soldiers as well as countless citizens being carted off into ambulances, a large crowd watching. Several fire trucks appear too with dozens of fire-fighters walking around and talking to police. The remains of the burnt helicopter lay scattered across the lawn while officers tried to prevent anyone other than them from getting too close to it.

 _"Sophomores Jack McGee and Jim Wilson witnessed some of the battle,"_ the reporter adds before two men appear on the screen, both with looks of bewilderment and excitement at what they must have seen earlier today.

 _"It was so big!"_ The first one with the brown hair exclaims. _"Yeah, it was like this huge...this huge...Hulk!"_

If I could've, I would have laughed at this.

 _"McGee who happens to be a reporter for campus paper captured this on his cell phone_ _,"_ the reporter says and suddenly the apparent video that this student filmed today was playing on the screen. He had managed to capture some of the action, such as explosions of the vehicles as the Hulk wrecked them. You could see glimpses of the Hulk here and there throughout the footage, but it showed little to nothing as to what really happened. I was surprised however when I saw myself on film. I wasn't looking at the camera though- you could only see my back from where I was standing and absorbing the fire from the explosion of the helicopter.

 _"While this elusive Hulk is such a big mystery, the other mystery of the day is to who the girl is that was able to put out the flames of the fire, with her own two hands,"_ the reporter adds before the screen is then flipped back to the two men that had shot the film.

 _"_ _I didn't see her face, but she couldn't just control fire_ _!"_ The black haired one exclaimed. _"I mean, she made it rain and she like threw these guys in the air with just a twist of her hand! And she took down the soldiers like they were just a sack of vegetables!"_

Oh, dear Lord. Fury was going to kill me when he saw this.

The sudden and unexpected sound of my phone ringing from where I had placed it on the coffee table in front of me, causes me to jump with fright. But the sound also causes my stomach to drop with dread as I already knew who it was that was calling me. And the idea of speaking to either Fury or Clint at the moment instilled enough fear within me that had me contemplating whether I should just let it ring out and straight to voicemail. But I knew that there was only so much time that I could avoid them for and that I would have to face them eventually. So, without bothering to look and see which of the two it was that was calling me, I promptly pick up the phone and bring it up to my ear. Answering the call, I swallow thickly before calling out tentatively, "Hello?"

" _You've been busy, Hathaway,"_ Is the surprisingly calm response from Nick Fury on the other end of the line.

It takes everything within me not to wince at that this. "You saw the footage then?"

" _Oh, everyone's seen the footage by now. I wouldn't be surprised if the agents that we currently have deployed over in England have seen 'the girl who was able to put out the flames of the fire with her own two hands.'"_

This time I _do_ wince, dread continuing to pile up in the bottom of my stomach. "Director, I can explain everything-"

" _No need Agent,"_ He says _. "You don't have to explain yourself at all."_

"…I don't?"

" _Not one bit."_

I freeze with uncertainty at this, blinking once, twice and then a third time in disbelief. This was not how I expected the conversation to go at all. Perhaps he was just toying with me and was waiting for me to let my guard down before he went off at me for not following direct orders? Then again, he never really did give me direct orders about using my powers in front of Ross. He had only advised that I try not to use them in front of the angry general so that he couldn't attempt to use them for his own agenda.

So maybe, just _maybe_ , he wasn't angry at all?

"So, uh, why are you calling then?" I ask in a small voice, still not one hundred per cent sure as to what the hell was going on.

" _Oh, I was just calling to make sure you were alive,"_ He answers nonchalantly. _"After all, there's no point in me sharing what I'm about to tell you with you if you're dead. And you've proved to me today that you're more than capable."_

"Capable? Of what?"

" _Joining the Avengers Initiative."_

"The what now?"

He lets out a huff of frustration at my confusion, but he never the less repeats slowly _, "The Avengers. Initiative."_

If he thought that the words were supposed to resonate with me then he was highly mistaken, as they only made the confusion within me to grow. But I only remain silent as he elaborates, "What I'm about to tell you is something highly classified. Only I, Agents Hill, Coulson, Romanoff and Barton know what it is. Whether or not you're interested in joining. I need full guarantee that what we discuss right now won't be shared with anyone else."

"I promise that I won't tell," I reply, bewildered. Fury calling me to talk about something highly classified was not what I expected when I had first heard his voice over the phone minutes ago. But whatever it was that he wanted to discuss, it must be something important seeing as how he wanted to talk to me about it over the phone rather than waiting until we could meet in person.

 _"There's this idea,"_ he says _. "Called the Avenger's Initiative. It's an idea to bring together a group of remarkable people to see if they can become something more. To see if they can work together when we need them too, to fight the battles that we never can. 'We', being the...'ordinary', people of the world."_

"What makes the people that you choose remarkable?" I ask.

 _"Certain abilities or skills that they have that no one else does,"_ he explains. _"For example, your elemental abilities are what makes you remarkable. It what makes you capable enough to fight the said battles. Coulson and I had been talking of possibly recruiting you if we decide to go through with this idea, but nothing was one hundred percent certain until we watched the news today and saw the extent of what you and Banner can do."_

"Bruce?" I say, my ears perking at his name. "You-you want to recruit Bruce too?"

 _"Well, this is where I tell you why I called you,"_ he replies. " _You see, we've been keeping a close eye on Banner for a while now. But what we saw today was something that we had never seen before. We're thinking off possibly recruiting him- but we don't know whether or not he's suitable or stable enough to join."_

"So, what? You want me to tell you whether or not he should join this Initiative or not?" I'm met with silence from the other end of the line so I continue with, "Well, I hate to break it to you, but Bruce may not be the Hulk for much longer-"

 _"The what?"_

"Oh. The green thing you saw on the news. Bruce and I call it the Hulk- though I guess so did the news reporter," I say quickly. "Guess it's a keeper."

There's a brief confused silence on the other end of the phone as Fury takes in my words and then says to me, _"So what do you say, Hathaway? Are you willing to join? You think Banner is stable enough for us to recruit him?"_

I shift slightly on the couch and remain silent as I try to think of an answer to both of his questions. I didn't know how I felt about possibly joining his team. I mean, it certainly sounded interesting. With its purpose of keeping the world safe from threats, it sounded as if it had a good cause as well. But at the same time, I couldn't help but feel as if I needed more information about it before I decided on whether to join.

"Who else have you asked to recruit?"

 _"Romanoff and Barton,"_ he says, causing me to raise my eyebrows in surprise. He had asked Nat and Clint? And they had managed to keep it a secret from me for however long now? But it would make sense. The two of them were two of S.H.I.E.L.D's best agents, with Clint and his deadly aim when it came to his bow and arrows and Nat with her killer combat skills.

"Who else?'

 _"Tony Stark."_

My brows quirk up in disbelief at this. "You asked Tony Stark?" I exclaim. _" The_ 'Iron Man'?"

 _"We asked, but he hasn't exactly given us a direct yes or no yet as to whether or not he'll join,"_ Fury mutters with a hint of annoyance lacing his words. Clearly Stark was a touchy subject for him then. _"After seeing how his suit could handle a force such as Obadiah, we thought it would be worth a shot. And then I've asked you, but I'm still waiting on an answer,"_ he continues pointedly.

A barely audible sigh escapes my lips before I can stop it. Reaching up to run a hand down my tired face, I reply, "Look, I appreciate you asking me. But I've got a lot to deal with here in Willowdale first. Bruce has taken off with Ross' daughter and I've got no clue as to where the hell they went. Ross is trying to track the three of us down and I've taken a good punch to the face and a shot to the shoulder. I need to sort this shit out first before I decide to join any secret boy bands."

" _But you'll consider it at least? We could use someone with your skillset."_

"There's no need for the flattery Nick. I already said that I would consider it. And as for recruiting Bruce, that's not my call. You can make a judgement yourself if you meet him and if he wants to join. But I wouldn't count on it. He actively tries to run away from the fight rather than towards it. Hence why he fled from the university today."

" _Our satellites got a glimpse of him heading north about five hours ago,"_ Fury informs me. Hope swells within me at his words and only continues to grow as he adds, _"He was last seen in some area of the Pennsylvanian woods. It's not much of a lead but-"_

"Trust me when I say it's better than anything that I have. Which is nothing," reply, glancing down at the map in my hands, specifically looking at the area that Fury had just mentioned. "Thanks. You've just helped me narrow down my search for him, even if only slightly. Now I don't have to start from scratch."

" _Where is it that you think that he's heading?"_

 _I can't go on like this! I can't endanger anyone else!_

The familiar words rung through my mind like a bell and my heart clenches involuntarily. Though I didn't know an exact destination, I knew that there was only one place that Bruce would head too once he was himself again. Maybe he would bring Betty along with him, but I knew that he would go and finish what the two of us had taken off to do in the first place.

"He'll go wherever there's a cure," I admit quietly, the Hulk roaring loudly on the television one final time before the footage ends altogether. "And I won't be far behind."


	11. Chapter 10: New York, New York!

I found that falling asleep that night had been as easy as breathing. With my eyes falling shut the moment that I had settled beneath the comfortable bed, I had effortlessly drifted off into oblivion. My sleep had been dreamless and long, with myself sleeping a lot longer than I intended. But I wasn't complaining. It had been so long since I had fallen asleep so easily and it was rather pleasant.

If only the same could be said for waking up.

Every movement, even the smallest and simplest of ones, would have me groaning in pain. My head felt as if there were thousands of needles piercing through my skull and directly into my brain in the form of multiple and separate headaches. The fact that my shoulder felt as if it had lines of fire burning along it didn't help much either. A couple of painkillers managed to dull these away, though not enough for me to be comfortable.

After having a quick shower and collecting the bags that Bruce and I had left here the previous day, I shove the map that I had been using the previous night in my back pocket. Fury had sent me the exact coordinates of where Bruce was last seen sometime last night, and I knew that I was going to have to keep the map to prevent myself from becoming lost. Geography and tracking weren't some of my finest skills but for the next couple of days, I was going to have to use them.

Though it was best for me to keep out of the public eye as much as possible, I was going to have to travel by bus for part of the journey. I was in no condition to fly for long periods of time and it would draw too much attention anyway, especially if Ross truly was looking for me. But that didn't mean that I hadn't made things slightly harder for him. If he had eventually put out an APB for me, then there was a chance that I would be recognized by more people. So, with this thought in mind, I had quickly tied my hair up and hidden it underneath my worn-out cap, throwing the hood of my jumper over the top of it for good measure. I had chosen more loose-fitting clothes to wear for the trip as well. Not only for comfort reasons but also to make it harder for people to discern my exact body shape and other distinct physical features as well.

Samson had kept true to his word and not showed up as I suspected that he may have this morning. But with a small part of me believing that the stubborn psychiatrist wouldn't just simply comply with my orders and remain behind in Willowdale, I was eager to clear out before he had the chance to unexpectedly drop by and try and follow me. And with no one else left in the house, I tried to place every object that I had used during my short stay back to where I had originally found them. With the chance of Ross possibly returning here to ensure that there truly wasn't anything for him to find in regards to my and Bruce's whereabouts, then I didn't want to leave him any clues or signs that would inform him that someone- specifically _me_ \- had been here.

After completing one final sweep of the kitchen to ensure everything was in order, I make my way towards the living room where I had placed the two packed bags on the couch earlier. Every one of both my and Bruce's belongings was packed and ready to go, though my phone and purse were still resting on the glass coffee table in the middle of the space. And according to the screen of the small device, I had a new message.

A frown seeps onto my face as I pick up the phone and see that the message was from an unknown number and that it had come through about ten minutes ago. Having been so engrossed with ensuring that the place was spotless, I hadn't noticed the screen light up nor heard the small beep that would have sounded from the phone once it received the message. My fingers don't even hesitate to press the correct buttons that enabled the small, black writing to appear on the screen in front of me:

 _Heading to Grayburn College in New York to meet with Mr Blue. We still have the data, and we are both unharmed. We'll reach New York sometime tomorrow. We're being safe. Don't try and contact us on this phone, as we will have to dispose of it once I send this message. I understand if you don't want to join us, but after our conversation the other night, I hope you do._

He hadn't signed off or indicated that it was him behind the message, but it was undoubtedly from Bruce. The context of the words themselves was enough proof for that. Relief washed over me in an almost overwhelming manner as my eyes traced the text on the screen. The more that I read it, the more and more that it sunk in that he and Betty were fine for the moment. He hadn't gone into too much detail or specifics about their current state but the fact that he was able to message me now meant that he was still breathing. He was alive and well enough to send a text and I'd take that for now.

But the new destination caused the relief to be replaced with unease instead. While I was happy that I at least had an idea of where it was to head to now, I knew that it wasn't going to be easy getting there. Not when there was the strong chance that Ross was still trying to find me, and I didn't have the slightest idea of where exactly Grayburn college was. I had only been to the city a few times in the past. While I loved it, I was a fish out of water there. The many streets and districts were all like a giant maze to me and I knew that I was going to need help if I wanted to reach the college at the same time that Betty and Bruce did.

If I wanted to get there, then I was going to need some help.

My fingers are pressing the buttons of my phone before I can even properly consider what it was that I was about to do. Or, more accurately, who it was that I was about to contact. We hadn't exactly been on the best of terms since we had first met one another yet I knew that if I asked her for help that she would offer it. Not simply out of the goodness of her heart, but more so because she owed me a favour. Or a few, when I really thought about it.

She picks up after only three rings _. "How the hell did you get this number?"_

"Is that any way to treat an old friend?"

" _We're not friends."_

"Sure we are."

" _Drinking ourselves blind at some dodgy little bar one time doesn't make us friends."_

"Well, that answers your first question. Because I specifically remember that you gave me your number the last time that we spoke. Though considering the state you were in, I highly doubt that you remember that."

I can practically picture her seething on the other end of the line. The clinking of glass in the background indicates that she had already started her drinking for the day, though I hadn't exactly expected any less from her _. "What do you want, Hathaway?"_

"Remember those couple of favours that you owe me?" I ask, balancing the phone between my ear and shoulder as I reached down towards the strap of my bag. "Well, I'm calling one of them in."

This time she does make a noise of frustration, in the form of groan. She knew that she couldn't get out of it now. Not after everything that I had done for her. _"What the hell do you want this time?"_

"I don't have enough time to explain everything to you right now. But I'm on my way to New York."

" _Lucky me."_

I can't help but snort with amusement at this deadpan, straightening up once I had slung the strap over my good shoulder. Reaching up to hold the phone upright once more, I continue, "I'll text you with the detail later. But first I need to make sure that you keep this to yourself. I can't have the wrong people finding out where I am, so the fewer people that know about this is better."

" _What kind of shit have you gotten yourself into this time?"_

"Eh, the usual," I reply, though I knew that this was far from the truth. Angry green rage monsters? Decades-old serums? Super soldiers? This was on a whole other level, even for me. But not that she needed to know this. Not yet, at least. "Look, can you just promise me that you won't tell anyone that I'm coming? Not even Trish?"

There's a brief pause on her behalf, as she mulls over my words. But with time of the essence here as it quickly ran out, I open my mouth to remind her that she owed me for everything that I had done for her. She could at least do me the simple favour of keeping this a secret between the two of us. Not just for my sake, but for hers as well. If Ross were to find out that she was helping me, then I didn't doubt that he would try and cause trouble for her as well. Not that she would just simply take it, but if it were to happen then I didn't know if I could help her or not this time. Not if Ross was looking to bury me too.

" _Alright,"_ She relents, before I even have the chance to utter a single word _. "What do you need me to do?"_

* * *

 **3** **rd** **Person P.O.V**

The room was shrouded with smoke as he lowered the cigar from his mouth, exhaling slowly once more. It almost concealed the sight of the screen of the television in front of him, partially hiding the faces of the terrified university students and the nosy reporters that filtered across the screen.

Culver University was a mess. The destroyed south building and lawn was enough proof of that. As well as the number of soldiers and bystanders who now found themselves in the hospital. With no one besides the army having any logical explanation as to what the hell had happened, everything had turned to chaos. The media was a firestorm of rumours of green monsters, gifted girls and military campuses swirled around the news. Ross knew this as he had been paying close attention to the news in the past twenty-four hours.

And to say that he was pissed would be an understatement.

Words could not properly express the turmoil of emotions that swirled within him at that very moment. Though he supposed if someone were to ask him how he was, then 'worried, disappointed and angry' would probably best sum everything up.

The worry stemmed from the fact that his daughter was nowhere to be found. He had ordered full satellite sweeps of the surrounding states the moment that she had been taken. Though to his absolute fury, nothing had come up so far. Ross wasn't even aware if his only daughter was alive or not. The last that he had seen her was when Banner had held her limp form in his massive hands. Ross had been too far away to tell whether or not her chest rose and fell with every breath. But the man that he had been determinedly hunting for the past couple of years had taken her away from him before Ross had time to blink. And with no idea as to where it was that they were heading next, Ross was left to be consumed with worry and use all of his authority and power to ensure that she was being looked for.

But he would be lying if a part of him was disappointed with how things had turned out yesterday as well. After all of the hard work and convincing of his few superiors to allow him to use Erskine's original formula, it had been wasted. He had been convinced that Blonsky was the perfect candidate for it. He was a loyal soldier with a pristine record- a hell of a lot better track record than the kid they had picked up in the '40s. If some scrawny kid from Brooklyn had been turned into what some had considered the greatest weapon, then surely a skilled soldier would have done so as well.

But no. The perfect soldier that he had tried to create was now just a useless sack of flesh lying in his hospital bed in the floor above. Taken out by the foes that he was designed to beat in the first place. Everything had looked promising at first. He had nearly managed to kill the SHIELD agent and had stood against the Hulk. Something that none of his other men had ever done. But the girl had eventually kicked his pathetic ass before Banner had then promptly finished him off. Now there was nothing to do but wait for Blonsky's heart to give out. What a bloody waste of the serum.

And that's where his anger came in. The failure of everything that he had worked for and the humiliation that he would surely feel when he faced his superiors and colleagues. The very thought had him clenching his fist in anger. If there was one person to blame for all of this, then it was Lydia Hathaway. Had she not interfered in Rocinha, Banner would be in custody right now. His soldier wouldn't have been beaten to a bloody pulp and his daughter would be safe. Nor would anyone know the true nature behind the gamma project in the first place. He was determined to get his revenge and have her pay for her actions, yet he had no clue as to where the hell she was. She had taken off just as quickly as Banner had and no one in the tech department could seem to find her. They couldn't even trace her damn phone.

But the thing that really ticked him off? She was _gifted_. She had abilities of her own. Abilities that, after having witnessed the extent of her powers, he wanted to get a hold of himself.

The unexpected sound of the phone ringing caused him to jerk with surprise. Though it soon had his heart sinking with dread, as he lowered the cigar on to the ashtray beside him. The last thing that he wanted to do was pick up that phone. After everything that had occurred in the past day, he knew that if he did then he would only be greeted with bad news or people that he didn't want to deal with on the other end. But he knew that he couldn't hold everything off forever. So swearing under his breath, he finds the will to reach up and pluck the phone from its holder, begrudgingly bringing it up to his ear. "Ross."

 _"Sir,_ " Kathleen Spleen replied on the other end of the line. Her words sounded breathy as if she had just been for a run and was now only catching her breath. Not that Ross cared though. He was only glad that it was her that he was talking to, rather than his own boss. _"It's Blonsky."_

He let out a frustrated growl in response, immediately guessing what it was that she meant by this. He knew that the soldier would die eventually, though knowing hadn't made him any less angry. "I'll be right up," He bites out before he slams the phone down, not hearing Spleen's protests on the other end of the call as he did so.

He didn't bother to hurry towards Blonsky's room, believing that he already knew what he would be greeted with there. A bunch of Doctor's in pristine coats informing him that there was nothing that could be done. As if he didn't know that already. Every bone in Blonsky's body had been shattered when he had slammed against the tree trunk at an unnatural speed. Super Soldier serum or not.

Instead, he practically sauntered down and up the hallways of the military base, trying to ignore some of the reproachful stares that were sent his way. Everyone here now knew that Banner had been his fault. That he had originally had him and Betty working to unlock the serum in the first place. _Damn_ that Hathaway girl for revealing his true intentions. He thought that he would be able to keep that secret under lock and key. But the girl was too smart for her own good and had quickly been able to put two and two together. The fact that she had confronted him about it when both soldiers and his daughter had been standing within earshot had only made manners worse. Word had quickly spread throughout the facility and any chance of a proper reconciliation between Betty and him had been washed down the drain. It was hard to look of hatred on Betty's face when he hadn't denied what it was that he had been accused of.

He now pushed open the door that leads into the infirmary where he had left Blonsky the night before. He only moved past the desk and turned towards Blonsky's room. He was greeted with the sight of an anxious Spleen pacing along the length of the door. When she looks up and sees him approaching, she abruptly stops mid-stride and reaches towards the handle of the door.

"Did anyone find out if he had next of kin or family?" Ross asks gruffly as she twists the handle.

A look filled with both excitement and disbelief shone on her face at this, much to his surprise. But before he could ask any further questions, she replies, "Ask him yourself," Before she swings the door open and reveals the room on the other side.

Ross breath hitched in shock at the sight of Blonsky sitting up on the bed in front of him. As two doctors murmured and conversed with themselves behind him, Ross' eyes scanned any and all of the skin that the soldier was currently showing. Where it had been red raw and covered with bruises less than twenty-four hours beforehand with his body tangled in ways that it shouldn't be, there wasn't a single mark to be seen on him now. The only difference that Ross could see was that his skin was slightly paler now, though he quickly concluded that this was a sign of his body still trying to heal.

"Sir," Blonsky greeted as both Spleen and the General slowly entered the room.

"Glad to see you back on your feet," Ross replies faintly, still not quite believing the sight that was in front of him.

"Thank you, Sir."

"How do you feel?"

The soldier's face twisted into a dark scowl at this, anger glinting within his icy blue eyes. "Pissed off, and ready for round three," he snarls venomously. Clearly, Ross wasn't the only one with vengeance in his mind.

But he had a feeling that this time, unlike the previous encounters, they were going to win.

* * *

Ross had ordered Spleen to continue the manhunt for both Banner and Hathaway while he dealt with the new woken Blonsky. It hadn't taken her long to gather some men and women and lead them down into the main conference room, allowing them a short amount of time to set everything up. While some sat in front of computers, other's stood over maps and files that had been placed in front of them. The far wall behind where she currently stood had one massive screen built into it, though numerous different images and footage appeared on the space. With surveillance footage, photos and every single information that they had on Banner, Hathaway and Betty Ross appearing as well, the people in front of her had more than enough equipment and information to help them with their search. These people consisting of FBI agents, fellow officers and even two SHIELD agents. Ross hadn't been thrilled that the organisation that Hathaway worked for were now involved in the search for her. But he didn't have a choice. It was up to people with even more power than him to make the decision of allowing the agents to work with them.

"Federal is already monitoring phones. Dr Ross' web accounts and local PD have been placed on alert," She now announces. "They'll pop up somewhere and when they do, it comes straight to us."

"They're not just going to 'pop up'," Reprimands a voice from the doorway. Everyone turns at the sound and sees that it was Ross who had spoken. He had entered the room so quietly that no one had noticed up until now. "He's made it for years, getting across borders without making any mistakes. He's not going to use a damn credit card now. If he was trying to escape, then he'd be long gone by now. Which means that he's not trying to escape. He's looking for help, and that's how we're going to find him. We know what they're after and we know he's talking to someone- "

"How?" An FBI agent asks from where he sits at the long table.

"We have his laptop which Spleen here was able to get into," Ross explains before he jerks his chin towards the files spread out on the tables in front of them. "You all have copies of the correspondence. The aliases Mr Green and Mr Blue have been added to the SHIELD Operations Data Base."

"What about the girl? The one that's been helping him?" Another agent asks.

"Lydia Hathaway is an agent of SHIELD and isn't a threat unless we make her one," One of Hathaway's fellow colleagues replies coolly. "Our sources say that she isn't with Ross or Banner anyway."

"Our sources say the same thing," Ross confirms bitterly as the girl's face flashes unwanted behind the back of his eyes. "She's injured. She took a bullet to the shoulder and we believe her to be laying low until she's recovered. She won't have made it very far. Local PD in Virginia and in towns of bordering states have been alerted and know to keep an eye out for her. Now, if Banner comes up for air then we'll hear him. And when he slips up, we'll be ready."

* * *

 **LYDIA**

One of the things that you get taught when you're a spy is to avoid surveillance cameras as much as possible. Not only does it make it harder for certain people to find you, but it can also prevent people from seeing you coming as well. Doing this was easier said than done though. Especially in a world where this certain technology was expanding and being used more often. It was bad enough in shopping centres and small towns, but New York was probably the worst that I had faced. Because as I walked down the streets, I was very hyper-aware that there were over two thousand cameras installed in the city streets. That didn't even include the ones in public housing areas, shopping centres, small corners stores and even the subway. Two. Thousand.

Yet at the same time, I wasn't all that nervous. Not when there were literally hundreds of other people walking on the streets beside me. It seemed rather easy for me to blend in with the crowd, though I kept my head down as much as possible. Not only to draw little attention to myself but to also make it harder for any surveillance cameras that I couldn't spot from seeing my face.

Seeing as Bruce had told me in the message that he had sent that he and Betty wouldn't reach New York for two days, I had decided to spend the night in a run-down motel practically in the middle of nowhere once I had arrived in Pennsylvania. The middle-aged woman behind the front desk had barely spared me a second glance as I had handed over the right amount of cash. She didn't even look up when she handed me the key and gruffly told me which room it was for. Not that I was complaining though. If Ross truly had put an APB on me, then the least people that saw me, the better.

I had woken early this morning to catch a bus to New York, making sure that I would be able to meet Bruce and Betty in Grayburn college at a reasonable time. The second trip had almost been as uneventful as the one to Pennsylvania had been, though that had changed when the bus had reached the outskirts of the city itself.

To say that I had been a tad bit excited when the sight of the large city had loomed up from the distance as the bus eased to a gentle stop had been an understatement. Though I had only been to the city a few times, there was just something about the place that caused me to love it a great deal. I had practically ripped the seatbelt away from my body as I tried to raise myself up higher to get a better look. But at the sight of police cars down the freeway, blocking the entrance to the city as they pulled cars over and peered into each vehicle had me quickly ducking back down where I sat in a panic.

I had known instantly who it was that they were looking for. It didn't take a genius to figure it out. And I didn't doubt for a second that if those cops were to search this bus- which they eventually would- that I would be dragged away and arrested. I had to get off the bus before it drew any closer to the cops and I had to do so quickly.

I hadn't been the only one to notice the scene up ahead. Where the bus had been silent just moments before, it had suddenly been filled with an excited buzz. Everyone had quickly scrambled to their feet and inched closer towards the front of the bus to get a better view of what was happening. Even the bus driver hadn't ordered the passengers to return to their seats, too intrigued about the sights of the flashing lights and parked cop cars. Not that I was complaining though. Their distracted states had given me the perfect opportunity to deftly lift the window beside me up. After taking one final glance at the other passengers to ensure that no one knew what it was that I was doing, I had quickly slipped through the open gap. I had bit down hard enough on my lip to draw blood in order to prevent a strangled cry escaping past my lips as pain exploded on the length of my shoulder. It had throbbed agonisingly once I had used it to yank my bag after me.

My actions had caught the bewildered stares from people waiting in the surrounding cars, but I had simply ignored them. Hoping that they would just assume that I was just impatient rather than a fugitive on the run, I hadn't given them a second glance. I had only gathered my bag and started weaving through the cars, moving straight towards the docks.

Now, after having paid a woman to take me over to the city on her boat, I stopped at the edge of the street. Looking both ways to ensure that there wasn't any oncoming traffic I step of the curb and move towards JOSIE's bar across the street.

With no bell hanging above the door to ring when I pushed through the door, the few people that were in the bar didn't notice my almost silent entrance. There were a couple of people playing pool in the far corner, while others sat up at the counter already starting their drinking for the day. The bartender, who I assumed was Josie, only briefly glanced as I closed the door behind me, though she quickly returned her attention to a conversation that she had been having with another worker.

My eyes quickly scanned the darkroom that seemed to reek of stale beer, before I spotted who it was that I was looking for. She was sitting in the far booth with her back towards me, though I didn't have to see her face to know that it was her. The dark and striking colour of her hair was enough of a giveaway.

She doesn't hear the sounds of my footsteps as I approach her, though from the way that she tosses her head back I can't help but feel as if she was already drinking. Sure enough, as I come to a stop beside the booth, I am greeted with the sight of her lowering a now empty whiskey glass from her mouth as her head tilts back so that she can properly my face, half hidden by cap and hood on top of my head. When she sees that it's me standing in front of her, her face twists into a displeased look. "And here I was, hoping that you wouldn't actually show."

"Good to see you too Jones. Isn't it a bit early for you to have started drinking?"

"Who are you, my mother?"

I snort in amusement at this. Shaking my head, I let the bag fall from my shoulders before I then slide into the opposite side of the booth. Once settled, I reach up and pull the hood from my jumper off my face, though I don't dare remove the cap. Not that it mattered much. Now that I was sitting across from her, Jessica Jones could see my face as clear as day. Judging from the grimace that seeps onto her face, what she sees isn't all that pretty.

"You look like shit," She bluntly states.

"Way to point out the obvious," I retort, knowing that she wasn't wrong. Though I had managed to fall into a deep slumber the night before last, my time in the crappy little motel room last night hadn't been easy. Undoubtedly there were dark bags plaguing the delicate skin under my eyes and I knew that I probably looked a lot paler than I usually did. Blood loss and constant, agonising pain would do that for you. Not to mention that I was currently holding my injured arm awkwardly in an attempt to keep it still. "The past couple days haven't exactly been easy."

"Oh, I know. So tell me. What brings the 'girl who could put out the flames of the fire with her own two hands!' to my neighbourhood," She questions with mock enthusiasm, though not speaking loud enough for any other customers to hear.

"You saw what happened in Willowdale, then?"

"Everyone saw what happened. You'd have to be blind or living under a small rock to miss that shit. I bet Trish was impressed."

"She doesn't know that I'm here?"

"Nope. She's still in rehab at the moment. Haven't had the chance to talk to her," She replies. It would have been impossible to miss the bitter streak underlying each of her words as she revealed this to me. Though she loved her adoptive sister dearly, it was clear that Trish's previous self-destructive ways were still a touchy subject for her. Especially considering that it had almost driven a permanent wedge between the two of them a few years prior.

"It's probably best that we keep it that way," I reply, not bothering to grill Jess about how she was handling this. She was never one for a heart to heart conversation- especially with anyone that wasn't Trish. I was no exception to this, and I knew that that wasn't about to change now. "I can't have the wrong people finding out I'm here. Not just for my sake, but for yours too."

She shrugs her shoulders in a nonchalant manner at this. "Nothing that you couldn't get me out of again, I'm sure."

"This time it's different."

"Which leads me to ask once again: what the hell are you doing here?"

"Family dramas."

"Wanna be a little more specific?"

"Wanna be a little less nosy?"

"You dragged my ass all the way down here requesting my help. The least you could do is tell me what crap you're dragging me into."

"Like you had a choice," I huff, my blue eyes narrowing into slits at this. "Don't forget that it was me who kept SHIELD from finding out about you and your abilities. I didn't have to lie and tell them that Dorothy's claims were false. If it wasn't for me, then you'd be registered on SHIELD's index and you'd have an agent tailing you for the rest of your life."

"Gee, what do you want? A medal?" She scoffs, her words frustrating me more than they should. With a tight-lipped smile seeping onto her face, she continues, "Need I remind you that didn't have to tell your bosses that there wasn't anything here. I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself."

"Right. Tell me, aren't you meant to be at work right now? The last I checked you were working in a café."

She gestures towards Josie at the bar for another whiskey, before she turns her attention back to me once more. With a cold smirk on her face, she informs me, "I'm kind of in between jobs right now. Let's just say that gestures were made, hard words were spoken, and I gladly walked out the door without looking back."

I try to fight the way that the corners of my mouth flick up in amusement at this. Watching as a genuine yet subtle warmth seeps its way into her smirk, I gather that she had noticed the small movement as well. "In other words, you told them to stick it and flipped them off while you were on your way out."

At that moment the other worker beside Josie waddles over and places the glass on the table in front of the green-eyed woman in front of me. She scurries off before Jess could utter a thank you, but then again, I didn't really expect her to. As she grasps the glass with her gloved fingers, she sends me a wink as she brings the drink to her lips. "Boy, you know me _so_ well," She taunts, before she throws her head back and downs the drink in just one gulp.

I remain silent and wait until she slams the glass back down on the table and wipes at her mouth with the sleeve of her trademark leather jacket. Only then do I reply, "I called you down here because I need your help. You're one of the few people that I know and, dare I say it, trust in this city. If there's anyone who wouldn't turn me in, then it's you."

One of her perfectly shaped brows arches up at this, her head tilting considerably to the side. "You're in really deep shit this time," she concludes. "Aren't you?"

"That's one way to put it."

"And you're so sure that I won't turn you in? It'd save me a lot of trouble. I could just go home, open up my bottle of whiskey and pretend that this shitty day never happened."

Despite her threat, I didn't feel the least bit panicked. Nor did I feel the need to leave this bar and get the hell away from her before she could follow through with what it was that she was promising. Jess may be able to hide behind her snark and sarcastic attitude, but I could always see right through her. And right now, I could tell that she didn't mean half of the things that she was saying to me. She wouldn't go to the cops. She wouldn't turn me int Ross. So all I had to do was sit here and calmly wait until she was ready to drop the act.

It appears that I didn't have to wait that long. She shifted almost uncomfortably in her seat under my intense gaze. Only a few seconds later, she quietly swears under her breath. "Alright, Jesus. Fine. What the hell do you want from me?"

I let a satisfied grin appear on my face at her surrender, which only causes her to shake her head in a frustrated manner. Pretending not to notice, I explain, "You've gathered by now that I'm in trouble. I can soon get out of said trouble though, but I have to get to a certain place to do so. As I told you before, you're the only one in this city who I can trust and who knows her way around. You know back streets and quieter routes. I don't think that I'd last an hour here by myself. Someone will inevitably recognise me or I'm going to slip up and make a mistake. Then the army will come and drag me to a place where I'll never see the sun again. So I need you to take me somewhere, and I need you to do so now."

"Where is it that you need to get to?"

"Someplace called Grayburn College. I'm meant to be meeting a family member there today."

She thinks to herself for a moment, her eyes darting upwards as she does so. Soon she slowly nods her head though, informing me through pursed lips, "Yeah. I know it. Not too far from here. It'll take us about an hour at least."

"So you'll take me?"

"Do I have much of a choice?" She dryly retorts with a frown. Turning towards the bar once more, she gestures for yet another drink from the surprised worker, though they none the less move to start preparing another glass of whiskey for her. "This one's on you though," She adds as she turns to face me once more. "I may owe you a couple of favours, but you owe me a drink at least."

"Fine with me."

"And you're telling me what exactly is going on while we walk there, Ice Queen." When I frown as the all too familiar nickname sounds from her lips, she shoots me a pointed look. "Can you still control ice?"

"Can you still fly?" I fire back.

"We've been through this. It's jumping…and then falling really, really slow."

"Whatever you say, Jones," I reply with a shake of my head as yet another glass is placed in front of her. "Whatever you say."


End file.
